Seduction
by Starjean
Summary: There are things rich, sexy, badass guys get up to. There are also things rich, sexy, badass guys would *like* to get up to. Love, lust, revenge, hatred, and a whole lot of drama.
1. in the beginning, there was Lust

_To begin with: if you do not like rich, sexy, dominant guys doing rich, sexy, dominant and possibly [obviously] perverted things... this FF is not for you. Other than that... It has a LOT of Tora Igarashi. It also has a lot of Tora Igarashi being, well, Tora Igarashi. Right? Right. _

_**Disclaimer:** I no own Maid-sama. Wish I did, though. =[_

* * *

><p>"President."<p>

Tora Igarashi looked up. His fingers were intertwined, and his chin rested on his hands, giving him a cool-headed, nonchalant sort of appearance. "Maki," he said, inclining his head at his second-in-command. He motioned with one hand. "Sit down."

The Vice President of Miyabigoka High School did so. He would have been handsome if he hadn t been slit-eyed, the narrow eyes dark and, as they held Tora, holding a modicum of respect.

"Well?" Tora's smile, dangerous without him trying, was all white teeth. "You seem to have news."

Maki set down a folder. "The Suoh family has confirmed the date of their visit."

Tora knew as much, though he did not say so. The Suohs and Igarashis were the kind of friends only enemies can be. Markani Suoh, President of the Suoh Group of Companies, wanted his son to transfer to Miyabigoka High, the next year. His father had arranged to tour the school, Tora knew, more to see how the Igarashi son ran it, than to check if it met his expectations - after all, it went without saying that if a place was good enough for an Igarashi, it was good enough for a Suoh.

"Preparations for entertaining the Suohs have begun. Of course, you are expected to play a central role."

Tora smirked. "I am aware of that. Have you made inquiries?"

Maki flushed. "Of course, President. It seems the Suohs have a love of pantomimes."

"Pantomimes." There was a half-smile, an almost lazy half-smile, in Tora's tones. "I see."

"Dance. Music. Theatre," Maki went on. "Lady Suoh is especially susceptible to a good romance. The Theatre Committee believes the right play would impress her more than anything else might."

Tora rose to his feet. He was taller than most boys his age, and there was a certain confidence, a certain casual elegance in the way he stood. "What does the committee want from me?" he asked, his back to the vice president, an edge of boredom in his tones.

Maki rose to his feet, too. "They have a script," he said. "The Suohs' visit coincides with the annual Open House School Tour." The open house tour was as much a top-drawer marketing strategy as a tour, and Tora s presence had been enough in the past to draw a truckload of girls toMMiyabigoka High. "The tour will culminate in the play, this year. It would be advantageous to the school if you are part of it."

Tora turned, picked up the folder Maki had placed on the table, and flicked it open. His lips lifted into his slow, almost dangerous smile as his eyes rested on a page, before turning it over. "I could have fun with this script," he said.

Maki s eyes flashed. The vice president had known the president long enough to know what that statement could mean. Tora was a womanizer and heart-breaker, and an incurable one at that. "You would of course, have a choice in who the female lead is," he said. "The Theatre Committee is considering Kagura Hanson, but they plan to hold auditions next week."

Not Kagura. Tora's tones made the name sound like a discarded toy. He'd had her. He wasn't interested in her. It was always a task for Maki to find a woman who could satisfy Tora, even for a while. "I want someone exciting, for once, Maki." He straightened. "Announce the date and time for the auditions. Announce that whoever auditions will pass an optional course of choice without having to sit the exam." The Igarashis had enough influence on the school for Tora to ensure that and, even if they hadn't, Maki suspected Tora could have still convinced the management that generating traffic for the auditions was not just beneficial, but necessary. Tora had that way with words, that supreme self-confidence, that manner of doing things.

But it wasn t just that, right now. Tora was, Maki knew, looking for weaknesses in others. Whoever would audition just to pass a course, must be desperate. Exploiting and utilizing weaknesses was Tora's idea of fun.

And one of his many specialties.

-;-

Sarakshi frowned at the test paper on her desk. She'd always been good at physics, so this was ridiculous. She couldn't remember the darned formula. She needed to study harder. But, she knew even if she wouldn't admit it to herself, it wasn't about studying harder. It was the all-nighters. She'd never been the kind who could stay up all night and still be as fresh as a daisy in the morning.

The thing was, she didn't have much of a choice.

She couldn't study in the afternoons or evenings. She was juggling two part-time jobs, and she needed the money. There were clothes and groceries to buy. Bills to pay. Books to purchase. She'd made it to Miyabigoka High on scholarship, and then she had realized that the scholarship didn't pay for her books or uniforms or lunch or other ridiculous school expenditures. She sighed, looked down at the test paper, rose to her feet, and turned it in.

Outside, the corridor was relatively empty. She'd been at Miyabigoka High for a full two weeks now, and she still hadn't gotten used to how huge and shining the corridors were. It was almost ridiculous. Frowning, she walked down, intending to visit one of the unused classrooms and sleep the rest of the period away, when she noticed the new notice on the notice board. She paused in front of it, her eyebrows rising, until they were in danger of disappearing in her hair.

No audition could be this important.

But what did she know how things at Miyabigoka worked? And if attending an audition could mean she could catch some sleep instead of having to worry about G&T assignments, why not?

She could feel guilty about taking the easy way out later. Right now, her world was starting to sink and she needed to grab whatever opportunity came her way, to keep it afloat.

-;-

"There are some interesting ladies signing up," Tora said, as he turned over a page in the folder Maki had just handed him. His voice was like a smirk. He paused at a photo. "This is?"

"Mineret Takashi, Class 2-A." Maki was, as always, prepared for any and all questions. "Do you like her?"

Tora looked down at the picture. She had copious amounts of blonde hair, wide green eyes, and her dress was skintight, showing a large amount of cleavage. "I haven t seen her before," he said smoothly.

"She's a transfer," Maki replied. "We have... a mutual understanding."

Tora's eyes met Maki's, and the blonde smirked. "Ah," he said. He flicked the picture between a thumb and index finger, and it slid across the table, landing in Maki's lap. "Keep her then. I wouldn t want to affect your... mutual understanding." It was a favour, Maki knew. Tora could do it, if he felt like it. He had stellar looks, and he knew it. His riches - he was next in line to the Igarashi fortune - only made girls more susceptible, as if they weren t susceptible enough already. "I'm sure something interesting will turn up."

-;-

Damnit, she was going to be late. The auditions were supposed to start at 5.45, and it was half past five now. Her plan had been to leave at five-fifteen. She'd told the manager she could only put in half an hour after school today, and that she'd make up for it by working the morning shift on the weekend, but one of the customers had kept her. Sarakshi bowed to the man, all smiles and, the moment she'd stepped into the staff area, scowled.

"Manilla-san." She tugged off her apron in one quick jerk. "I'm going to change now."

Manilla nodded as she picked up a tray. "Good luck on the auditions, Sarakshi-chan."

Sarakshi hadn't told Manilla she didn't want the part, and she didn't have the heart to now, because Manilla's face was all lit up. There was no time to shower, so she just changed, grabbing an old pair of shorts, and a baggy, oversized, deep green t-shirt. She brushed her hair and, unable to find a hair tier, picked up a chopstick from a counter and stuck it through her bun to hold it there. She'd return it tomorrow. Manilla wouldn't miss it. Grabbing her bike keys, she sped out of the parking lot of Crème Maid but, even driving at full speed, she reached Miyabigoka High ten minutes late. By the time she'd found the hall she was looking for, she was twenty minutes late and not sure if she was in the right place.

There was a pair of doors in front of her. She pushed it open and burst in.

Everyone turned to look at her.

She bit the inside of cheek.

Everyone went back to talking and chatting, and Sarakshi breathed a sigh of relief.

-;-

"Should we begin now, President?" Maki's voice was cool, polite, professional – as always. "It seems –"

The back doors burst open, and someone walked in. There had been a few latecomers, but none of them had attempted to use the backdoors, and Tora broke away from Maki to look around, one perfect eyebrow raised. The girl standing in the doorway wore something no Miyabigoka High girl would ever be caught dead in – old shorts and an oversized green shirt – and she was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, like she had run a marathon.

Tora turned to Maki, his eyes cool and indifferent. "Of course. Sort them –" He waved a hand at the crowd – "and start the auditions. I will watch from upstairs. There may be candidates I wish to audition myself. I will let you know. Until then –" His voice became cooler – "I do not wish to be disturbed."

-;-

It seemed no one was looking at her, anymore. Sarakshi had a feeling the Miyabigoka High students found her too low to even show contempt – it had something to do with her clothing – which suited her just fine. She could slink into the shadows, and watch until she was given directions –

Someone touched her wrist.

The touch was light, almost as if it wasn't. She turned around, surprised, and found herself looking into a pair of deep golden eyes. She took a step backwards, her blue eyes widening, before frowning. "Excuse me?"

The young man bowed, one hand behind his back. "Tora Igarashi, Student Council President."

She'd heard of him, of course, even if she hadn't had time to get to know much about the Student Council, let alone meet any of the people on it, in the two weeks that she had been there. "Sarakshi Ishin," she said. "How may I help you?"

"I'm conducting the auditions, Sarakshi-san." He took her hand, raised it to his mouth, and brushed his lips across the top of her knuckles. "If you'll follow me?"

"I –" Damn, he was handsome. He wore expensive cologne, the kind that made you feel dizzy if you got too close. "Of course." She followed him outside and into another hall, perhaps one of the auditoriums. The doors closed behind her, and she realized the place was dark and silent. Tora raised a remote, and dim lighting came on, so that everything in the auditorium looked like a bit of a blur, outlined in the gray-bluish light.

"Your script, Sarakshi-san." His smile had a secretive sort of edge to it, like it was full of secrets he had no plans to share. He sat down in the front row, leaning backwards lazily. "Shall we begin?" he asked, motioning to the stairs that led up to the stage.

Sarakshi frowned. "There's no one else here."

"Sarakshi-san, have you auditioned for a play before?" Sarakshi flushed. She hadn't. Perhaps this was how auditions went. Tora's smile was self-assured. "I'm the Student Council President, Sarakshi-san. I'll be overseeing your audition. Well, then." He leaned forward. "Shall we begin?"

He was unsettling. Sarakshi looked down at the script, which she knew nothing about. She wished she'd at least been able to read through it once, before coming here. She'd been sure she'd give a terrible audition, but she hadn't expected to do it in front of just one guy, and a guy with a gaze as piercing, as studying as Tora Igarashi's. He had a way of standing, sitting, talking – of being – that made her realize she didn't belong.

She cleared her throat. "Right," she said. She walked up to the stage and looked down at the script. "Perhaps," she said quietly. "Perhaps this is how things were meant to be, Takashi. If wishes were horses, we would all have ridden them. If dreams were –"

"Sarakshi-san."

She stopped. Tora was studying her, and she was suddenly very aware of being alone with him. She flushed. "Yes?"

"You're not putting enough feeling into it." He had risen to his feet, and he was walking towards the stage now. "You have to make your audience believe in the character you are playing." He came to a halt in front of her, and took the script from her hands. "Perhaps we should practice another scene? A more… intense one?"

"Igarashi-san?"

He took a step forward and, with no warning whatsoever, pinned her against the wall. "The two leads are supposed to have chemistry," His voice was silk. This close, he could smell her and she didn't smell like any of the women he'd known, of expensive soap or perfume. She smelled of chocolate and baking powder. "What subject do you need to pass in, Sarakshi-san?" His lips were next to her ear.

"Let go of me," Sarakshi said, shoving him back. He caught both of her arms with ease, holding them against the wall.

"What subject do you need to pass in, Sarakshi-san?" This time, his voice had authority.

"Let go of me, you idiot!"

He laughed. The sound was silken and dangerous. "You could pass, you know." He was still holding her there so she couldn't get away, but he did not kiss her, did not touch her in any other way. She'd come to him. They all did. "There are ways to make sure you pass. Everything. I have influence. Money. You wouldn't have to study for weeks. Maybe even months."

"Who do you think," her voice was suddenly cold and, for a moment, Tora's eyes widened. Then they were cool, again. "You're talking to?" She twisted her arm, ripping it free of him, her breathing fast and furious. Her hair had come undone, and her eyes were shining with anger. "Do you think I give a damn about your influence? Your money?"

She slapped him across the face, hard, and before Tora could recover, she had left, banging the door of the auditorium shut behind her.

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><p><em>Thank you for reading. <em>

_Reviews are nice. They make me want to update._

_:3_


	2. then came Manipulation

****c h a p t e r t w o  
><strong>**

****then came MANIPULATION  
><strong>**

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><p>x<p>

"President?"

For once, Maki sounded surprised. Tora's eyes were hard and cold as iron but, when he turned around to face Maki, the expression had gone, replaced by cool indifference. "Kanade," he said.

Maki stepped in, the doors swinging shut behind him. "I apologize for any inconvenience," he said smoothly. "I didn't know you were in here. We are ready to begin the auditions. Shall I proceed?"

"No." Tora's response was both short and curt. Maki's eyes met his, and Tora could see the surprise in them, evident and inquiring. "We already have a female lead. Sarakshi Ishin." Then his eyes hardened. "I want to know everything that could compromise her, by tomorrow."

Maki's eyes flickered. "Of course. Hiroshi-san will want to cast the other roles, however."

"That is none of my concern. Do as you wish." Tora made to sweep past him.

"Tora."

Not President, not President Igarashi, but Tora. Tora paused, and their gazes locked.

"What is it?" Maki said.

"I wouldn't call it revenge," Tora said. "But it will be fun."

_;;;;;_

"Sarakshi-chan…" Manilla sounded worried. Sarakshi looked up, mustering up a weak smile, though it faded when she saw the expression on Manilla's face. "Is everything alright?"

"I think I'm coming down with a cold," Sarakshi lied. Under normal circumstances, she might have told the Oh-It's-Nothing lie, but she had a feeling it wasn't going to work in this case. Manilla's gaze was too anxious.

"Well, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Manilla asked. She set down the beater, and peered at Sarakshi over the top of her spectacles. "You don't look too well, you know."

"No, it's okay. I'll be fine, Manilla-chan, I really will be."

Manilla frowned. Not one to be down-in-the-dumps too long, though, she brightened up almost immediately. "Do you know, Mitsuko-chan thought it would be a good idea if we dress up as animals, tomorrow," she giggled.

Sarakshi nearly dropped her plate in surprise. "Animals?" She asked. "Like… animals?"

Manilla looked like someone had dropped a big, live fish on top of her head. "No!" She gasped. "Of course not, Sarakshi-chan! Like bunnies and cats and things! You know! Cute pnes!" She raised her hands to the sides of her head likes ears, wriggled them, and began to hop about. "Like that! Isn't it adorable?"

Sarakshi had to laugh. She'd been repressing the memories of yesterday for the past God-knows-how-many hours, and Manilla's antics drove them straight out of her mind for the first time since Tora had pinned her against the wall. "I doubt I could pull it off like all of you can, Manilla-chan," she laughed. "But I'll give it a try. I could be a cat, I suppose."

"We'll have to give you pink ears~" Manilla squealed. "Here, give me those." She grabbed the pile of plates from Sarakshi's hands. "Take the day off, Sarakshi-chan. You have to be in tiptop condition for tomorrow. I'll ask Mitsuko-chan or Hianta-chan to do the night shift. Have a good day, Sarakshi-chan~" She trotted off with the plates and, a smile curving her lips, Sarakshi headed for the changing room.

She didn't have the night shift often but, the few times she did, it wasn't something she exactly enjoyed. Her usual shift ended at half past nine, but the night shift didn't end until midnight. She'd scheduled things according to the night shift for today, though, so she took her time in the changing room. She had a shower, and while she was at it, she confronted her memories of what had happened the day before.

Tora Igarashi. He was – there was no other word for it – vile. She could still see his eyes, burned against her mind. Deep gold and gorgeous, and utterly arrogant. _He thought he could buy me. He thought he could buy me just because I wasn't wearing what the other girls wear, and probably never will._

Moron.

She emerged from the shower, smelling of cinnamon soap, and dressed in shorts and an baggy white shirt beneath an oversized jacket, her red hair wet and tangled. She ran her hands through it, took a deep breath, and stepped outside. It was a little after ten, and the world was dark, and she wished she could have driven her bike home. Petrol was expensive, though, so she didn't use it often. She'd just have to walk home.

She did just that, walking home through the street lights and a few dark, alleys.

She never noticed the figure following her.

;;;;;

"Ishin-san?"

Sarakshi turned around at the sound of her name. She'd been leaning against the bushes, watching the students diving into and emerging out of the huge swimming pool. It was a free period, which meant she needed to complete a plethora of assignments. The boy addressing her was lean and tall, black-haired with narrow eyes. He might have been handsome, if it wasn't for the deceptive smile and how sharp those eyes were. She had a feeling she had seen him before.

"Maki-kun?" She asked, realizing who he was. She rose to her feet. "May I help you?"

"The Headmaster would like you to see the Theatre Committee." Sarakshi raised an eyebrow and, as if sensing her wariness, he held out something that looked like a pass, before saying anything else. "They are interested in the project you handed in for G&T class. If you would accompany me?"

Sarakshi looked down at the pass. It was clearly legitimate. "Okay," she said. "But I have a class in twenty minutes."

Maki bowed. "This shouldn't take very long. If I may escort you."

"Of course."

He led her into another block, up a grand staircase, and on to a landing. There was a row of doors here, each two doors far apart as if the rooms were huge, and Maki stopped in front of a highly-polished door which he knocked twice, before holding open for her. There was a name plate attached beside the door, but Maki was standing at an angle that blocked it from view, and Sarakshi couldn't read it. She gave the boy a smile, which he returned with his close-eyed one, and walked in.

The moment she did, she heard a lock click into place, and realized she'd followed him straight into a trap.

;;;;;

The room was huge, carpeted, and very dark. There was a table at the far end, polished and expensive – she could just tell – and, standing behind it, his hands crossed behind his back and his back to her, was a tall, deceptively lean figure.

Tora turned around. He pressed a button, and the lights came on, illuminating the room. It was done in gold and scarlet and – there was no other word for it – magnificent. There was nothing too simple, nothing excessive, nothing distasteful and nothing less-than-breathtaking about it.

"Sarakshi-san." His voice was cool, almost nonchalant, but his eyes were cold. Sarakshi raised her chin, meeting his gaze without flinching, although she felt like flinching.

"What do you want, Igarashi?"

"I?" He sat down, not offering her a chair, though she would have refused it even if he had offered it. Being treated as an inferior. She couldn't stand it. "It's the Theatre Committee that wanted to see you. Didn't Maki tell you that?"

Her eyes flashed. "You lied to the Headmaster."

"That's beside the point, isn't it?" His smirk was slow and plain, sheer maddening. "It might interest you to know that you've bagged the lead for the play."

For one moment, she didn't understand. Then the words registered. "But I didn't even audition!" That crap _hadn't_ been an audition.

"Of course you did, Sarakshi-san." His eyes locked on to hers. "Don't you remember?"

She pursed her lips. "Open the door, Igarashi. I'm leaving."

He rose to his feet, and walked up to her. Sarakshi held her ground. He placed a hand beneath her chin, raising it, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Do you know what I can do?" His other hand caught her arm as she raised it, with effortless ease. "I can tell the school management about this." He let go of her hand, reached into his pocket and held something up. It was a picture of her, dressed as a maid, serving a customer. He pushed it aside with his thumb to show a second picture. This one was of her waving to someone who couldn't be seen on the camera, in front of a pile of dishes. He let go of both the pictures, and they floated to the floor, where they lay, motionless and accusing. "Do you know what they do to students who risk Miyabigoka High's reputation by taking up jobs like these?"

Sarakshi felt numb. He'd had her followed and, like the fool that she was, she hadn't known a damn thing about it. "What do you want, Igarashi?" She asked in a whisper.

He ignored her question, his hand still under her chin, tilting it upwards. "They expel them," he continued. "And it's very hard to get into a good school, once you've been expelled from a place like Miyabigoka. You do know that, don't you, Sarakshi-san?"

She grabbed his arm, and pulled it away from her. "What do you want, Igarashi?" This time, her voice was harsh. She wouldn't let him see her break. She wouldn't.

He walked over to his desk, picked up something, and held it up. It was a script, he realized. "You will accept the lead in the play. You will act happy about it. You will come to each rehearsal, starting tomorrow."

"When are these rehearsals?" She walked up to him, and took the script from his hand. Her eyes were hard and, he realized, she didn't look like she was about to cry. He'd expected her to break down. He'd expected her to apologize. He'd expected her to tell him she would do whatever he wanted, anything to please him, if he kept her secrets, helped her out. But her shoulders were thrown back, her chin raised, and there was nothing but hard resolve and something like fire in her eyes.

"Every day after school," he smirked.

Her breath caught. "I have jobs to do after school."

"You'll have time to go to that café of yours." His voice was still all silk. "Crème Maid, isn't it?" There was a smirk in his words.

She met his gaze, without wincing. "I go to Diner Lafay before that," she said. "I need that job."

He was standing against the tall window, his back to her once more, looking outside as if he had lost interest in what she had to say. "Perhaps you should have considered that earlier."

He wanted her to apologize, Sarakshi could tell. He wanted her to ask him for help. _This is revenge_, she realized. _Revenge because I slapped him. Because I walked out on him._Well, he'd picked the wrong girl to fight with. "Very well," she said. "I will reschedule my other activities, for the extent of this… extra-curricular activity."

He turned around, and there was a smirk playing around his mouth. "I'm glad you came to that decision. Let me escort you to the door, Sarakshi-san." But he swept past her, unlocking the door, and holding it open for her.

She didn't say a word to him as she stalked out.

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><p><em>This was, I think, the shortest chapter I've written so far. *eyes it*<br>_

OTAY._  
><em>

_arianne: Thank you. I'm trying not to update soon without it being_ too_ soon, but I want to get to the good parts already. I have no patience. XD_

_OhanaChan: COOKIES. Does I get cookies now? *_*_

_Ultimate Ending: Thank youuu, and YAY for Tora fans! *high fives* XD I love Toraaa!fiction, so I'm going to stalk your FF. =3_


	3. there are all kinds of War and fish

****c h a p t e r t h r e e****

****there are all kinds of WAR and fish  
><strong>**

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><p>x<p>

The hall gleamed in shades of cream, and it would have been immaculate, Tora thought drily, if it had not been for the man standing at the end, his power suit spotless and his back turned to his son.

"Have you thought about it, then?" Genkei Igarashi's question was both brief and curt.

"I have no interest in her," Tora's tones were dismissive.

Genkei's eyes narrowed. "She's beautiful." His voice had gone from cool to cold, a sign that his patience had begun to wear thin. "Smart. Intelligent. She comes from a respectable family. _What do you find lacking in her?_"

"She's engaged," Tora pointed out.

"That has," Genkei's tones were like ice. "Never stopped you before."

The man had a point. Knowing a girl was engaged had never stopped him from approaching one, before. If he wanted something, he took it. That was how it went, plain and simple. This, however, was different. Principles, Tora thought without humour, could be such a hassle.

"It seems like it's stopping me now," he said, his smirk calculated to infuriate. It was a hard task to get his father worked up but, where this particular subject was concerned, Genkei's temper was likely to fly much, much faster than usual - and that worked in Tora's favour. If he could infuriate his father enough, the man would leave him alone, at least for the present.

"Tora." Genkei said the name as if it was that of a naive, erring child's. "It is not like you will have to marry her. There will be no strings attached. You can make a clean break of it, as soon as you are bored with her."

Tora knew that. He just had to woo her and, all things considered, he had no doubt that he could, if he put a mind to it. "I'm bored with her, _now_," he said lazily.

"This is because of him, isn't it?" Genkei turned around, and Tora could see the rage written in his eyes. Excellent, Tora thought. Progress. "Because she is engaged to that low-lying - _that low-lying bastard_!"

"I have no idea," Tora's voice was no longer dry or lazy. It had become cold. "What you are talking about."

He could see a vein throbbing on Genkei's temple. "Very well." His father straightened up. "I will give you twenty-four hours to reconsider this matter. If you cannot agree to show an interest in her, I will _make sure_ you show it."

Tora didn't doubt his father had his means. He supposed he could throw a fit of rage, and storm off. That would catch Genkei off guard. Make the man realize he needed to approach the matter in a nicer manner. He threw no fit of rage, however. "Goodnight, father," he said, tones calm.

Principles, Tora thought as he swept past his father and up the staircase, could be such a hassle.

-;-

Looking down at the script as she walked out of school, Sarakshi realized there was no sane way she could juggle a cafe, a diner and a dojo. Her shift at Crème Maid ended at half past eight and, while that meant she could switch her afternoon shift at the diner for a night one, it also meant she would get back home after midnight.

She wasn't Wonderwoman. She could take a lot, but the goal had never been to kill herself juggling everything, you know?

But if the choice was between letting Tora Igarashi know that he couldn't break her down and killing herself juggling all of her activities, she'd take the latter any day.

She stopped at a payphone, to call in at the diner and see if she could switch shifts. It was something she should have discussed with the manager in person, but she wanted to dive into her bed. She wouldn't be able to get back home before midnight for quite a while, starting tomorrow, so she might as well enjoy her One Day of Solitude. _Damn you, Igarashi_, she thought, making a face as Utsukushii Creek appeared in her line of sight.

Utsukushii Creek was not an old, faded building. It was _the_ old, faded building. It consisted of two storeys of rental apartments - most of which were either vacant or filled by old, faded people - and Sarakshi had never seen another building that looked this in need of a paint job a little love. When her father had still been alive, their apartment had been nice, irrespective of how Utsukushii Creek looked on the outside. Or maybe she had just thought it was nice. It had become as faded as the rest of the building now, but it was neat and clean and always smelled nice. Like spices or roses or chocolate or tea, depending on her mood and what she cooked.

She liked it.

Slipping into the bath, she relaxed. She wouldn't think of Tora. She wouldn't think of what he thought he was and could do. She wouldn't think of any of it. She had a part in a play, a good play, and she was going to make the most of it. She picked up the script she'd brought in, and began to read through it.

Then she paused as she realized something.

She'd have to kiss Tora.

During the play. The rehearsals.

She sank into the warm water, and let the script float to the bottom of the bathtub.

-;-

When the school bell rang, Sarakshi picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She could see cars piling in and out of the parking lot. She didn't remember ever having thought of the rich bitterly, even in those days when she should have and could have. But she wondered now, for a few lazy moments, how easy things _could_ be for people.

Then she gathered her folders in her arms, and headed for the second auditorium.

It was unlit, when she pushed the doors open. The light that streamed in from the open door emphasized the bare outlines of the chairs, the stage, the balconies and, for a moment, Sarakshi thought of how hollow it looked. Then she realized she wasn't alone, and Tora was seated at the back, leaning backwards in his chair, his gaze both lazy and maddening as his eyes travelled from the tips of her shoes to her chest.

"Igarashi," she said coolly. "I need another copy of the script."

He rose to his feet. He could make even that action seem dangerous, feline almost, like a predator about to spring upon his prey. "What did you do with the first copy, Sarakshi-san?" He said her name, especially the suffix – the 'san' – with something like sarcasm and an infuriating, aggravating pleasure that was calculated to madden her. He leaned towards her, his lips next to her ear. "You can... tell me."

Sarakshi's cheeks flushed. "I'm beginning to realize," she said, crossing her arms against her chest. "That you are way more screwed up than I thought."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. She had some nerve. He could deal with that, however, as long as he had the last laugh - and he would. He always did. It would be, he knew, worth the patience. "Miyabigaoka students do not wear their school uniforms to rehearsals, Sarakshi-san," he said silkily._ "_You should change. Or would you rather –" He leaned down, feeling that familiar surge of power that came from knowing his own strengths, and his opponent's weaknesses – "That I help you do it?"

There was something very unsettling about his eyes. Like they saw everything, especially what they weren't supposed to see. Sarakshi held her ground. "Keep dreaming, Igarashi." Then her eyes narrowed. "How do I know you're not lying?"

He stepped back from her, a smirk playing around her mouth. "The changing rooms are to the right. There are clothes there, but they may or may not fit you. Bring a change of clothes from tomorrow." Not you should bring, Sarakshi noticed, but bring. If she was naïve enough to fall for that, he could have a good laugh over it. Hades, he needed it. Life had been a bitch, of late. "And if I were you, I would –" His eyes met hers – "Take a bath."

Could he have gotten any more personal? _Rich bastard_, Sarakshi thought sourly, refusing to rise to the bait. "If you're lying, so help me, Igarashi, I will kill you." She turned around, stalking off but, once inside the changing rooms, she raised her sleeve and sniffed. She _didn't_ smell bad. In fact, she told herself in a voice that was anything but convincing, she smelled of chocolate. She yanked open one of the lockers. To her surprise, there _were_ clothes there. What looked like some of sort of uniforms sporting the Theatre Committee logo, in fact.

Right. So he wasn't a liar. But he was still a rich bastard.

Frowning, she looked around herself. Only a school like Miyabigaoka High would have changing rooms as huge as this. It was ridiculous how everything was so neat and expensive. She opened the door to the showers, eyeing the shining, white walls, the floor-length mirror, the huge bathtub. Then, colouring at the thought of Igarashi's words, she slipped into the bathtub.

She emerged, ten minutes later, a towel wrapped around herself, yanked open the lockers... and took a sharp intake of breath. The uniforms were gone. But she was _sure_ there had been some before. She yanked open one locker after the other and then, feeling a sensation of dread settle in the pit of her stomach, checked for her uniform.

It was gone.

In place of it, hung a dress so little, it was a wonder it was even _there_.

"Sarakshi-san?" It was Tora's voice. "You've been in there a long time." He sounded nonchalant, as if he might or might not have a mild interest in knowing the reason. "Did you scald yourself in the shower?"

"Igarashi." Her voice was livid. "My clothes."

"There's a replacement, isn't there?"

"Igarashi, if you do not give me back my clothes right now, I am going to -"

"I'm coming in." The doorknob turned, and Sarakshi caught it, eyes wide, hair hanging down, wet and tangled. The doorknob turned back in place. "I'll count to ten, Sarakshi-san." Tora's voice was both cool and unconcerned. The voice of someone who knew she would do as he had directed. The voice of someone, Sarakshi realized, who had done this before. Not once, not twice, but countless times. Her eyes flashed. Pervert. Rich _pervert_. "Ten. Nine. Eight."

She opened the door.

Tora's eyes widened, though the surprise in his expression was gone, almost as soon as it had arrived, replaced by a smirk. Interesting. She was so much more interesting than he had thought in the beginning. "Igarashi." Her voice was cold. She was wrapped in the towel, holding it knotted in one fist so that it would not slip. "If you do not give me back my clothes, so help me I will go to the Headmaster's office like this and tell him."

He took a step forward and, despite herself, Sarakshi took a step back. "Aren't you interesting." His voice was low, almost a caress, and Sarakshi's cheeks flushed with colour. He bent his head to look at her. She was suddenly aware of how tall he was. His hair fell into his eyes, straight and blonde, and his eyes were a deep gold, a dangerous, conceited deep gold. "But would the Headmaster be pleased if he knew –" She could feel his breath on her neck – "What his most recent scholarship student does for a job?"

He stepped back, and she realized he was holding something. He held it up, and then he let it drop to the floor. Her uniform, she realized.

"There's no rule against rehearsing in your uniform, Sarakshi-san." There was a smirk in his voice. "Get dressed before the others come and see you."

He left, a very satisfied smirk on his lips, and Sarakshi swore.

-;-

"Perhaps… perhaps this is how things were meant to be, Takashi –"

"No, no, no." Daiki Hiroshi, Head of the Theatre Committee, looked close to tears. He was a little guy, an inch shorter than Sarakshi, and had a big voice to make up for it. "You're acting _timid_, Ishin-san. The point is to sound _quiet_." It was clear that he would rather have chosen a dancing teapot to play the female lead, than cast Sarakshi."Perhaps, perhaps this is how things were meant to be, Takashi!" He said in a dramatic, emotional voice that was anything but 'quiet', clutching his hand to his heart. "You see? You see how it is done?"

"No," Sarakshi muttered.

Tora smirked.

"But you are mine, and I am yours." He said in flawless tones, leaning in. It didn't matter how utterly ridiculous the lines were. He made them sound perfect. In the background, Daiki clapped enthusiastically.

"Excellent! Excellent!"

"This has got to be a nightmare," Saraskhi muttered, under her breath.

By the time they wrapped up, she knew one thing for sure: she could not act. She sat down at the edge of the stage, glowering at Tora who was leaning against the door, smirking like the self-satisfied bastard he was, until Daiki shooed her out. The school had emptied, with most of the students having left a few hours ago, but a staff meeting was in session and the building would be open for a few hours yet. Sarakshi picked her way outside, into the relatively empty parking lot. So she couldn't act. That didn't mean she couldn't try. She was not going to lose to Tora Igarashi, of all people.

"Perhaps," she said, willing herself to get into her character. "Perhaps this is how things were meant to be, Takashi -"

"Don't you have a café to get to?"

Tora was leaning against a wall, the signature, wicked smile in place, and the way he said the word 'café' was all sorts of lazy and all sorts of seductive. "Perhaps the job doesn't pay enough, anymore?" He asked, taking a step towards her. She did not step back, like almost every other girl he knew would have. Which made him want to intimidate her into submission, even more. Overpower her. Get a rise out of her. He held up a black, leather wallet, remembering how outraged she had been the last time he had brought up the subject of money. "This is enough to see you through this month." In the dim light, his eyes seemed dark. "Entertain me," he said smoothly.

How presumptuous could this man be? She rose to the bait, as he had thought she would. "If that's the way you've been treating people all your life, Igarashi, it's a wonder you have any friends at all."

She reminded him of Misaki Ayuzawa, except for the fact that Ayuzawa had been far less in control... and far less foolish. Sarakshi Ishin was like fire, sure of herself, sure of what she wanted, and sure to leap before she looked. His lips curved into a smirk. He placed a hand underneath her chin, and tilted it upwards. "You don't want me as your enemy, do you now?" He asked, his smile dangerous. "You do so... interest me."

Her eyes flashed. She spun free of him, and he noticed something light and swift in the movement that he recognized at once: expertise. "If you think you're intimidating me, you're mistaken." She turned around, to walk off. "You're right. I don't want you as an enemy, Igarashi. Because we're more than enemies. We're rivals."

"Ishin."

She stilled.

He walked past her, and turned around, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. There was amusement in his eyes, and a smirk playing around his mouth. He leaned down and placed his lips against her ear.

"If this is war, remember that I will not hold back."

There was a promise in his words and, for the first time, Sarakshi realized she might have walked into something she should have stayed far, far away from.

-;-

"President."

Tora looked up - from the dark-haired, dark-skinned beauty who was resting her head against his shoulder - at Maki, who was seated across him, in the car.

"What is it now, Maki?"

Maki looked out of the tinted window, a frown on his face. "Sarakshi Ishin. What are you going to do about her?"

Tora leaned down to kiss the girl.

"Everything I want to, for a start," he said.

* * *

><p><em>Ultimate Ending: Glad to know you liked it. =) and I'll work on that!<em>

_ulqui x: HE IS, HE IS! XD It's pronounced exactly as it's written. Suh-ruck-shi. Suh to rhyme with tu in turbine, ruck as in ruckus and shi as in.. she? XD_

_MARSBARYUM: Enjoy. ^_^_

_HaileighxSarahxMarie: Yay! And... that's a lot of cupcakes. O_o I want theeeem XD_


	4. Madness, like gravity

****c h a p t e r f o u r ****

****MADNESS, like gravity****

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><p>x<p>

Tora leaned against the railing of the spectators' space, a plastic water-bottle in his hand. Beyond the railing and the Makoto dojo's genkan, he could see two boys bowing to each other, in the dojo's outside training area. One belonged to the same dojo as him. The other belonged to Makoto.

Under usual circumstances, Tora would not have done anything to associate himself with Makoto. It was a commoners' dojo and, as such, beneath him. But, with the Kano Cup approaching, Ukahara Sensei considered the arranged trip an essential part of his "strategy." He intended to make sure he left no opponent's skill and style unexplored - even if those opponents came from a place such as Makoto.

The current training was supposed to "strengthen ties between the two dojos," but Tora knew better. It was the Makoto's best judoka against Kasukage's weakest. The plan was gauging Makoto's strengths and weaknesses without having to reveal their own, though Tora doubted if Makoto's sensei was fooled. It seemed just like a commoner however, he thought dispassionately, to ignore that in favour of getting to work with Kasukage.

"Shouldn't you be studying their judoka?" A deep voice said from behind.

Tora knew who it was, without having to look up. You could not mistake Marjani Suoh's voice for someone else's. There was something about him that was decidedly, openly feral: it was in his gaze, in the way he moved, in the manner he talked, low and deep and like a warning.

"I can see them from here." Tora's voice was dangerous.

Marjani's gaze lingered on the bottle in Tora's hand. "I do believe you can," he said softly.

Their gazes locked. Then Marjani turned around, descended the staircase, and crossed the distance between the shimoza and genkan. Tora set down the bottle, gazing across the place, out into the open. There was a figure in the distance, bowing to Makoto's sensei.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. But how interesting.

It was Sarakshi Ishin.

-;-

The referee raised his arm and directed it towards Sarakshi. She let go of the opponent she had pinned down, and rose to her feet. Both of them bowed and, when he held out a hand, she took it with a sense of wariness that wasn't hard to explain.

He had, like her last opponent, been ruthless. She'd heard of the Kasukage dojo's competitive streak - it thrived on inter- and intra-dojo competitions - but there had been nothing competitive, and everything harsh, about the two opponents she had faced today. It was as if their judo focused on offense, rather than defense; on hurting their rival, rather than making him or her submit. Her opponent grinned, not a nice grin, his grip on her hand just a little too firm when they shook hands.

"Go get yourself a drink." It was Kazuya sensei's voice.

Sometimes, it was hard to get Kazuya sensei. He was young, somewhere in his twenties, and sometimes, his face had that lean, haggard look that made her frown. She bowed, before she turned around. She avoided drinking inside the dojo but, as far as orders went, that had been a direct one. Picking up a water-bottle, she headed for the spectators' area. It was dark and could have been bigger, but it was her favourite spot in the dojo.

She halted.

Tora Igarashi was leaning against a wall, his deep gold eyes surveying her, a half-smirk playing around his mouth. "Dressing up as usual, are we?" His gaze travelled upwards, from her trousers to her belt to her uwagi.

Sarakshi's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here, Igarashi?"

He straightened up. "Is that how the Makoto Dojo treats it guests?"

Sarakshi's eyes widened. "You're with the Kasukage Dojo." She could see him as part of a dojo with that ruthless, competitive streak. "I see." She turned away, to head back outside, but his voice stopped her.

"Will you fight me?"

She turned around slowly. "What do you mean?"

"You think of us as rivals." There was amusement in his words and eyes, as if he was watching a spectacular drama unfold in front of him. He took a step towards her, and his finger touched a loose coil of red hair that had escaped from her clip. "Which means you assume we're equals. I am far above you, Ishin." His voice was low and lazy. "I could buy you on a whim. Your friends. Your house. Your dojo."

Her eyes flashed. "You have no respect for the sanctity of a place of learning, do you?"

"Shall we decide whether or not we are rivals?" Tora's smile was all dangerous teeth, as if he had never heard her statement. "We are both judoka. Fight me. If you win, I will accept you as a rival. If I win... I will take this off." He touched the neckline of the shirt under her uwagi. "Slowly."

Sarakshi took a sharp, furious intake of breath. Before she could respond, however, someone had responded for her.

"You wouldn't want the Makoto Dojo to know you were harassing one of their judoka, Tora." The voice of the person behind her was like an open invitation to war.

Tora's gaze flickered upwards. "Marjani." His voice was soft. He took a step backwards, not an intimidated tep, but a step that seemed to say he was done there. His gaze swept away from the young man, to Sarakshi. "Perhaps I should give you added incentive," he said. "If you do not challenge me to a fight within this week –" He smirked, and she had a feeling he was playing, not with her, but with the person who had just appeared. His... friend? Foe? – "The Igarashi Group might want to buy out Utsukushii Creek. Delightful old building, isn't it? If you'll excuse me, then." He bowed, one hand behind his back, turned around, and left.

He wouldn't, he couldn't, go that far for something so childish. Even so, Sarakshi felt something like panic rise in her throat. Real, sheer, genuine panic. She turned around to face Marjani, and her eyes widened.

He was older than her, dark-skinned and dark-eyed, and – no other word would fit him so well – feral. There was something dangerous, almost intimidating, in his dark eyes, his prominent cheekbones, the hard, handsome lines of his face. He was the kind of guy people both feared and worshiped.

"Thank you," she said, after a pause.

He bent, took her hand, and placed his lips on it, the tough so light it almost wasn't. "It was the least I could have done." He let go of her hand. She saw a broad, dark black wristband around his left wrist. "Marjani Suoh. Perhaps you would like me to… talk to my cousin?"

Cousin or not, Marjani Suoh and Tora Igarashi were not friends – in the minute those two had been standing next to each other, she had felt the hostility and tension in the air, as if it came off them in waves - and Marjani made the word 'talk' sound like _kill_. It was a sign of how much Igarashi's words had both infuriated and unsettled her that, for a the most fleeting moment, she considered accepting Marjani's offer.

"No, thank you." She paused. The silence was awkward and Marjani seemed to find that just fine. It was almost as if he welcomed the lack of conversation. Not sure what else to say, she asked, "Is he any good at judo? Igarashi?"

Marjani turned away from her, his eyes focusing on the shadows. He moved like a cat, not any cat, but a savage cat. There was nothing graceful, and everything dangerous, in his movements. Yet when he spoke, his voice was perfectly polite. "He's an Igarashi," he said, after a moment, as if that meant he had to be good at judo, and many other things besides. "Do you realize he will keep his word?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say, Marjani-san?"

He turned around. "Nothing." His eyes were like shutters that had been pulled down, blocking the world out without a second thought. "That you don't already know."

-;-

"Sarakshi-chan~"

Manilla was always an excellent distraction, even if Sarakshi was not cheered up by the greeting. "Good evening, Manilla-san," she smiled. Once inside one of the changing rooms at Crème Maid, however, she leaned against a wall, a frown etched on her face.

If she hadn't had more sense, she would have blamed the fact that she had gone for that crap audition, for the mess she was in. But she knew Tora Igarashi better than that. In a place like Miyabigaoka High, she stood out too much. Sooner or later, he would have noticed her. Sooner or later, she would have reacted the same way she had earlier. And sooner or later, she would have landed into the mess she had now.

But to threaten to buy out Utsukushii Creek... why would he go that far?

She couldn't shake off the feeling that that the actual manipulation had had nothing to do with her and everything to do with Marjani Suoh.

_Do you realize he will keep his word?_

Her stomach seemed to tie up into knots. But of course he would. She understood Marjani's words, not the words themselves, but why he had said them. She had no idea why a complete stranger - and one who looked like a walking, talking weapon at that - would want to help her, but she knew one thing. It had been his manner of telling her she couldn't just dismiss Igarashi's words. That she was in trouble.

_Understatement of the year,_ she thought sourly. _But if he wants a fight, I'll give him a fight he'll remember for the rest of his life._

She jerked off her shirt, her eyes flashing. She could remember that ridiculous leather wallet Igarashi had held up earlier. She was a good judoka. If she fought and defeated him, even he wouldn't have the nerve to think he was superior to her.

The problem, of course, was issuing the challenge.

He would take it to mean she wanted to prove she was an equal. She didn't. She wanted to prove he _wasn't_ an equal, which was a different matter altogether. Well, if issuing a challenge - and he would wait for her to do that. To go to him. That was Tora Igarashi, arrogant and presumptuous, to the core - meant admitting she was inferior to him, she would just have to find a way around it.

"I'm psyched for the Kano Cup," Manilla was chirping, in the corridor outside the changing room.

"Some of the men are real hotties," Hianta's voice was all giggles.

Men. Kasukage was a men's dojo. Sarakshi's mouth formed into an O of surprise. That was it. She pushed open the door of the changing room so fast, it was a wonder it didn't come off its hinges.

"Manilla-san! Can I leave? Something urgent has turned up."

"Of course, Sarakshi-chan, but –"

"I know you'll be short on staff –" Sarakshi said, as she grabbed her bag and made for the door.

"No, it's not that, Sarakshi-chan, stop –"

"Don't worry about it, I'll help out next Sunday –"

"No, Sarakshi-chan!" There were bright red spots on Manilla's cheeks now, and Sarakshi suddenly realized Hianta was doubled over, laughing. "You're not.. you're not…"

Sarakshi looked down, and realized she was in her shorts and a bra.

Colour rose into her cheeks.

She slunk back into the changing room, leaving a giggling Manilla and Hianta behind her.

-;-

"What are you playing at, Tora?"

Tora, who had been about to tug off his uwagi, met Marjani's eyes. It was usual for them to be like walls that shut the world out but, right now, Marjani's eyes were dark with a low, dangerous sort of anger.

"Proving to myself that I don't have principles," Tora said lazily.

"You don't." Marjani's words were curt. "Why drag a girl into it?"

Tora tugged off the jacket of his judogi. "Your Messiah Complex interests me."

Marjani's eyes flashed. "I don't see why you even feel the need," he said calmly, turning around to leave. "To prove to yourself that you have no principles."

-;-

There was no doubt that the Kasukage dojo, Sarakshi thought as she hit the Print button, was competitive. If someone had walked into the Makoto dojo and issued Kazuya sensei to a challenge, he would have ignored the person and gone on teaching.

Kasukage's sensei seemed to welcome challenges.

She held up the paper that had just slid out of the printer. It was a page off Kasukage's website, scheduling times when the dojo was open to visitors who wanted to compete against Kasukage's students. Or just compete. She had known the Kasukage dojo believed competition was essential to a judoka's growth, but she hadn't realized there would be whole slots of time dedicated to open challenges. Open house 'training' that could be joined by any and every male student, as long as he had a letter of introduction from his sensei.

Not that she was complaining. It made her task easier.

She slipped the printout into her pocket.

Now she just needed someone who could get her in without a letter of introduction.

-;-

Showing up outside the Kasukage Dojo had taken more nerve than Sarakshi would ever have admitted to herself. The last thing she wanted was to be seen by Tora Igarashi, and turning up at the dojo he belonged to was almost the equivalent of barging into him, knotting her hands into his hair, and refusing to let go.

Okay, not quite. But it didn't feel _right_.

Even if she knew Marjani Suoh was her best shot.

Which, of course, was the second thing that was getting to her. She stood there, outside the dojo, not sure how to proceed now that she was here. She hadn't asked Kazuya sensei for permission to visit the dojo - not that, she had a feeling, he would have given it - which meant she couldn't go inside. Not that going inside had ever been an option.

Even at a distance, the place was huge. Why on earth would a dojo need to have six storeys? What did you do with that many storeys, anyway? Raise sheep?

Someone placed a strong hand on her shoulder, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Ishin-san." The deep, low voice was, she was already coming to realize, trademark Marjani.

He was in a white judogi that looked like it was brand new, the belt around it striped; and, now that she'd had the stroke of luck she had wanted, she had no idea how to proceed.

Marjani decided to help. "May I ask what brings you here?"

Why on earth did he have to speak as if he was about to kick someone in the face? Or jump off a roof? Do something dangerous and drastic. "I wanted to talk to you." Sarakshi's voice was far more confident than she felt. "I wasn't sure how to contact you. I know this seems a little..."

"I see," He cut across her, as if he had no need of her explanation and had just dismissed it.

"I'm not sure you do." Sarakshi said. She couldn't shake off that feeling of danger, of it being in her best interests to run far, far away from him. "I have a favour to ask of you."

"Ah."

Sarakshi realized that was all the answer she was going to get. "I have a… friend who would like to join your dojo's open house training." She stopped. There was something in his eyes that made her feel as if he saw right through her, as if he _knew_. But when he spoke, his voice was smooth.

"And this concerns me because?"

What was it with rich guys being jerks? He was talking to her like she was a particularly slow child. "Because you can help me," Sarakshi snapped. Crap. "No, I mean..."

"You mean exactly what you said." Marjani's tone was flat.

She stuck her hands into the pockets of her shorts. "Of course I mean it," she muttered. What on earth was she doing here, asking someone who, for all she knew, could be a serial killer, for help? It felt ridiculous. It _was_ ridiculous. "Listen." She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "You don't like Igarashi. I don't like Igarashi. This has to do with not liking Igarashi."

There was something lurking in his eyes that she could not recognize. Laughter? Humour? "What makes you think I don't like him?"

"It wouldn't take a genius to figure that one out."

"I could tell him."

"Tell him what?" Sarakshi crossed her arms against her chest. Realizing the ball was not in her court, did not make her feel like the most pleasant person on the planet. "I haven't _told_ you anything, have I?"

He smiled. It was a dark sort of smile, one that made you take a step backwards rather than feel good. "You're a bad liar, Ishin-san," he said, the words quiet. "You have no friend who would like to join our open house training."

"I -"

"Don't bother. You don't have a good enough excuse." His tone was flat. She felt like a little schoolgirl, who had been told off and dismissed. Sarakshi supposed she should have had the good grace to blush, or at least look apologetic. She couldn't bring herself to do either, and settled for scowling.

"On the contrary, I have an _excellent_ excuse."

"Which is?"

"I don't like him." She said flatly. "I want him to have to admit he wasn't right."

Marjani inspected his hands, as if he found them more interesting than he found her. "What makes you think I would want to help you?"

She looked up at him, as if attempting to look past the rough exterior, the dangerous aura, the flat tone of voice. Their eyes met. She had a feeling he wanted her to flinch, and scowled. What had she been thinking?_ That he would tell his sensei he had a friend who'd make a good opponent for Igarashi, that's what_. "Forget it," she said, hitching her bag higher up her shoulder. "I apologize for bothering you."

There was something tough about her. Something proud. _Your Messiah Complex interests me._ Of course it does, you manipulative jerk, Marjani thought drily. "You'd be found out," he said, his voice soft.

Sarakshi turned around. "I work at a maid café that specializes in cosplaying," she said, voice flat. "Looking like someone else is what I do for a living."

He took her in. She was short, perhaps an inch above five feet, and there was a stubborn lift to her jaw. "How good are you?" he asked.

She folded her arms. "Good enoug –"

He threw an uppercut at her. Her eyes widened, but she blocked the blow.

"Next Wednesday," he said, as if he had not just attempted to hit her. "If I talk to Ukahara sensei, he'll want you there. Don't..." his voice was dangerous. "Bail out on me."

She blinked. "You'll talk to your sensei?" she asked, wary.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a reason to disbelieve me?"

She wasn't sure if she did. She wasn't sure if she didn't. Sometimes, there are no good choices. "Why are you agreeing to this?" she asked softly.

_Your Messiah Complex interests me._ "I don't like Igarashi. You don't like Igarashi. This has to do with not liking Igarashi." He tossed her words back at her, as if he found her question falling short of some standard, and saw no reason to give her an actual answer. "What name do you want me to give?"

The question was sudden, and Sarakshi was caught by surprise. "Kazuya," she blurted out the first name that came to her mind. "Saito Kazuya."

Marjani straightened up. "You had better work on your technique, Saito Kazuya," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Believe me, your opponent doesn't play nice."

* * *

><p><em>I can't help getting the feeling that this is a filler-ish chapter. -_- <em>

_For anyone who's not familiar with the dojo-ish terms: Shimoza would be the back of the dojo. Genkan is a sort of traditional entrance. The uwagi is the awesome jacket a judoka wears. Letters of introduction are... well, letters of introduction XD Students of a dojo are expected to seek permission from their sensei, before visiting another dojo. The sensei will either contact the other sensei or, in some cases, give their student a letter of introduction. Which said... this is all stuff I've read about and I'm not an expert on judo or anythiiing, so if you spot any factual inaccuracies,_ _let me know and I'll correct them and stuff_. =3_  
><em>

_Twillk, spiderthorn, Ultimate Ending and TheFamouslyUnfamousAuthor: Thank you for the reviews. ^_^ *gives you all cookies*  
><em>

_MARSBARYUM: You'll find out in a couple of chapters._ =)


	5. just takes a little Push

****c h a p t e r f i v e  
><strong>**

****just takes a little PUSH.  
><strong>**

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><p>x<p>

Sarakshi was aware of a dozen or so pairs of eyes following her as she walked into Class 2-A. Hitching her bag higher up her shoulder, she resisted the urge to frown.

In the couple of weeks she had been at Miyabigaoka High, she had considered the stares, whispers and raised eyebrows business as usual: she was different, aware of it, and content. She had a feeling that, if she had made an effort to fit in, she would have been accepted. She hadn't, though. The idea of putting on an act to make friends felt... wrong. She liked shorts. She liked over-sized shirts. She liked working on her physics assignments, when everyone else was discussing the one million parties they had been to, that week.

And she did not, she absolutely did not – and this seemed to be half the female population's favourite topic – like Tora Igarashi.

It wasn't business as usual right now, however. She could _feel_ the increase in the stares and whispers. She caught the words 'cast,' 'play,' 'commoner' and 'President Igarashi' as she sailed past the desks, to take a seat at the back of the classroom, and realized that most of the voices were female and furious.

Charming. Just charming. Now she had Igarashi's fangirls on her case.

"Ishin-san?"

Sarakshi looked up warily... right into a pair of glasses that framed nervous, brown eyes. Eyes that belonged to a girl with a heart-shaped face and flyaway brown hair. "Yes?"

The girl smiled, a rather nervous smile. "You're Sarakshi Ishin, aren't you?" She asked and, without waiting for a response, plopped into the chair next to Sarakshi. "I'm Sora Kiyoshi. Is it true? Did President Igarashi cast you as the female lead himself?"

Cast was not the right term. Forced into being cast as would have been more appropriate. Saraki realized that all the girls in the class seemed to have fallen silent, as if waiting for her response with bated breath, and resisted the urge to throw her shoes at their heads. "I auditioned," she said drily.

Sora frowned. "No one else seems to have auditioned for the lead," she muttered. Then her face lit up. "Well, it's still nice to meet you. I'm in the Theatre Committee. I've been down with the flu and I couldn't come to school all week –" She had a fast, nervous, breathless way of speaking"– and when I returned, the auditions were all done, and President Igarashi and you had been cast as the leads, and I wanted to talk to you, but you don't seem to talk to anyone and -"

It had never occurred to Sarakshi that someone at Miyabigaoka High might want to talk to her. Perhaps she _should_ have made more of an effort to mingle. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sora didn't give her a chance.

"You're one of the scholarship students, aren't you? I know another of those. How do you like the play? I helped write it. Have you and President Igarashi kissed yet? I know half the girls wanted that part. They're so mad you got it, but they heard the prez cast you himself, so they don't want to say anything. None of the girls want to get on his bad side. He's sort of cute and intimidating," she added, her eyes wiiiide and nervous.

"Cute? Igarashi?" Sarakshi looked up to see a tall girl who had just entered the class, drop her bag on to Sora's desk. "Don't be ridiculous, Sora. That man is hot. Damned smoking hot." She flipped back a sheet of sleek blonde hair and grinned down at Sarakshi. "I'm Linda Williams." Her gaze snapped up, taking in all the girls who were hanging on to each word. "Is there a problem, ladies? This isn't a circus."

Some of the girls blushed, others hissed and muttered, and one called out, "But your presence is making it into one, Linda-_san_," but the group broke up, leaving Sarakshi, Sora and Linda in peace.

"Excellent," Linda said, not at all affected by the insult. She grabbed a chair, turned it around so that it faced Sora and Sarakshi, and slid into it. Her hair, blonde and let open, hung down to her thighs. "What was your name again?" she asked Sarakshi, pointing at her with the butt of a pen.

Sarakshi had to grin. "Sarakshi Ishin. Thanks for the help."

Linda grinned back. She had a supermodel grin, what with all those pearl-white teeth and plumped-up lips. "So you're the famous new student, are you?" Her voice seemed to say _Time to gossip? Perfect_. "I want to know _all_ about you."

-;-

"It seems she left," Maki's voice was smooth.

"It's the second day in a row!" Daiki Hiroshi's voice was huge and frantic. "How am I to direct this play, if the female lead will not come? If the female lead will not rehearse? Tell me, President Igarashi –" He turned to Tora – "Tell me, President Igarashi, what am I to do? What is a man to –"

Tora rose to his feet, the movement light, graceful, and with an edge to it; and Daiki fell silent at once.

"Maki."

"President?" Maki was at his side at once.

She was up to something and, whatever she was up to, she was not getting to disappear on him to do it. "Find out." Tora said, voice cool.

Maki bowed. "Of course."

-;-

"The Makoto dojo?" There was a touch of sarcasm in Tora's tone. "She's skipping rehearsals to spend more time at the Makoto dojo?"

"She may have an affair with her sensei. He is, I believe, quite young." Maki's voice was all smooth, scandalous suggestions.

Tora raised an eyebrow. He couldn't imagine that little chit of a girl kissing anyone, let alone kissing Makoto's lean, haggard, far older sensei. "Sometimes, Maki," his voice was cool. "You make me wonder what I was thinking, when I befriended you."

He rose to his feet, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Whatever she was up to, she had better pray that he didn't find out. Because when he did - and it was only a matter of time - he was going to make sure she regretted it.

-;-

It was five past midnight, when Sarakshi emerged from the diner. The streets were quiet, distant lights shining out of windows, and she was exhausted. With the match against Igarashi scheduled for tomorrow, she was beginning to realize she should have taken tonight off.

_I don't like Igarashi. You don't like Igarashi. This has to do with not liking Igarashi._ She thought of the words Marjani had tossed back at her. By all means, she shouldn't be so sure that he would keep his word. Talk to his sensei. But she was. Don't think of it, she reminded herself. It was her Don't Look Before You Leap if You Don't Want to Know What You're Leaping Into principle. There were times when why you trusted someone, was a topic better left alone.

The parking lot was almost vacant, most customers having left a while ago. She headed towards it... and stopped in her tracks. There was a figure beside her bike, leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his slacks.

"Is it wise to be out in this weather in those, Ishin?" Tora's gaze lingered on her shorts.

"Igarashi." Her voice was cold.

He inclined his head.

She had known skipping rehearsals to practice at the dojo was not the most intelligent plan on the planet. But it was the lone plan she had had; and if she could work on her technique and infuriate Igarashi at the same time, what did she have to lose? Looking at him standing there, his eyes glinting with that displeased light, however, she realized she might have made a miscalculation.

"Move out of my way," she said, narrowing her eyes.

He grabbed the front of her jacket and pulled her to him. Maintaining a distance between them – enough to be a considerable one, but not enough to be a comfortable one – he leaned down. "What are you up to, woman?" His voice was low. Dangerous.

"I have no idea," she said softly, refusing to be intimidated. "What you are talking about."

"I am sure you realize..." There was an edge to his voice, as if he was not used to not being given answers when he demanded them. "You have two days left to challenge me." His hand tightened around the fistful of her jacket. "You want to prove that we're equals, don't you?" His voice was soft, almost a whisper. "If you win, you prove that, Ishin."

She shoved him back. "If you won't move aside, Igarashi, I will make you."

He didn't budge. "What is it, Ishin? Did I... intimidate you?"

"Don't you just wish you had," she muttered.

"Then what are you scared of?" He leaned in, his face inches away from hers. He could tell the question had hit a nerve; and the angrier people were, the more likely they were to make mistakes. "Does it scare you that you might lose?"

In the dark, her eyes were like fire. Livid. He could see her resolve to keep her mouth shut breaking. "There has _never_ been a question of losing to you."

"Then accept my terms." There was a challenge in his tones, as if he believed it was fear of losing that held her back. "If you win, I will accept that I was mistaken. If I win, I will... discard this." His hand touched the neckline of her shirt. "I should enjoy that."

Her cheeks flushed red.

"Scared?" He reached out and brushed bangs out of her eyes. "How cute."

We all have a breaking point, a point where we rise to the bait. This was Sarakshi's.

She glared. "I accept your terms."

Tora smirked. "I will make sure you remember that."

-; -

"Him?" Tora's voice was cool. It wasn't often that Ukahara sensei wanted him to compete: the man might love ruthless competition but, even so, he did not allow his top judoka to participate in the open house training. People could, after all, use it as a chance to gauge Kasukage's best judoka's styles and techniques.

When Ukahara had told Tora he wanted his student to compete tonight, then, Tora had expected his opponent to pose a challenge.

"Him." Ukahara responded, his tone dispassionate as if he, too, had been expecting something more. The judoka he was glancing at was slender to the point of being too thin, his white judogi a little too large for him, his dark brown hair rough and messed up. He had large, green eyes that looked almost unreal and he couldn't, Tora thought, be more than five feet.

"Have you seen him fight before?"

"No." There was a frown in Ukahara's voice. "I believe, however, that he will be good."

"He looks like a girl." Tora said, tone flat. There was something familiar about the judoka, something familiar about the shape of his eyes and the stubborn lift of his jaw. "What makes you think I should fight him?"

Ukahara gazed across the sea of judoka, at the slender young man. Marjani was, by far, his highest ranked student; and Marjani had spoken for the young man. "Marjani Suoh spoke for him," he said, watching a judoka throw another on to the floor.

Ah. Tora looked back at the young man, comprehension dawning across his mind. "Marjani Suoh spoke for him, did he now?" His voice was no longer cool; it was lazy and amused. "Then I think…" His grin was wicked. "I will enjoy this match."

-;-

There was a crack and a lump rose in Sarakshi's throat, as the arm of the judoka on the next mat popped right out of its socket. Kasukage's judoka rose to his feet, his grin triumphant, and she resisted the urge to wince. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest. _Calm down, you idiot_. But she couldn't.

This was not judo. This was not training. This was not competition.

This was plain, sheer ruthlessness.

The kasukage dojo's spectators' space was gigantic. It covered half a floor and she could see dozens of men there, all sorts and all ages, their total interest enough to make her want to bang her head against a wall.

Even though she could not see him there, Marjani Suoh had kept his word, as she had known he would (_don't think why you knew. Just don't_)... and, now that she was here and her match was about to start, she was beginning to understand why Kazuya sensei did not seem too fond of the Kasukage dojo.

_Don't think of what might go wrong._

She bowed to Igarashi, and stepped on the mat.

Her worries seem to disappear, the moment the fight began. Once she was on the mat, it was no longer about winning or losing. It was about the defense, the reflexes, the speed. The sport. The sense of belonging.

Or so she thought, until Igarashi slipped his hand under the collar of her shirt.

Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed red and, even before the yama arashi was executed and she was thrown to the ground, she knew she had lost. The one good thing, she thought to herself as she was thrown through the air, was that Tora Igarashi would never know who had just lost the match.

Igarashi pinned her in a manner that was all slow, lazy hands and, as he leaned over her, looked down into her eyes and, a very satisfied smile playing around his mouth, whispered,

"That was the shortest fight I've ever had in my life, Ishin."

-;-

He had known. He had known all along. He had known along, and he had had the nerve, that manipulative jerk, to slip his hand inside her uwagi.

Standing over the sink of the changing rooms in the Kasukage dojo, Sarakshi continued to splash water onto her face. You will not cry, she told herself. You will not cry. She raised her head, water dripping down her chin, and her eyes widened. Reflected in the mirror above the sink, his back against the wall behind her, his eyes deep and golden and focused on her, was Tora Igarashi.

"The contacts were a nice touch," he smirked.

She turned to him, the ridiculous wig still on, her eyes a dark, tinted green. "Do I know you?" She asked, one eyebrow raised.

"You've become quite the actress, haven't you?" His voice was amused. In one silent, swift movement, he closed the distance between them. Sarakshi took a step backwards, and his smirk widened. "Do I intimidate you... _Kazuya-san_?"

Her eyes flashed. "If you'll excuse me, Igarashi-san, I have places to be."

He caught her chin and jerked it up. "Igarashi-san," he repeated. "How... obedient." Her cheeks flushed. He lowered his voice until it was almost a secretive whisper. "I hope you remember we had a deal, Ishin."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Now, if you'll step out of my way."

His grin was lazy, a predator's grin. "You do realize I could tell my sensei. Your sensei might forgive you, Ishin, but mine is unlikely to pass up the chance to ground your dojo's reputation into dust. He would... enjoy that." It was a threat, plain and open, but Sarakshi had had enough. She'd been found out, defeated and ridiculed. She could take all of that. But she drew the line at someone daring to threaten Kazuya sensei in front of her. She raised her chin and met his gaze.

"Keep dreaming, Igarashi." Stepping backwards, she plucked the contacts out of her eyes, dropped them to the floor, and ground them into the ground with a shoe. "Your sensei would die before he admitted he was fooled by a girl who's a foot and a half shorter than him. Not to mention -" Her eyes locked with his gaze - "You wouldn't do anything to get Marjani Suoh into trouble."

Tora's eyes darkened. "Oh?" His voice was dangerous, as if she had crossed some line.

She flinched at the look in his eyes, but did not back down. "Yes," she snapped. "I'm beginning to realize, Igarashi, that you have a twisted sense of principles, but you do have it. Sometimes. Rarely. But yes. It's there."

He smirked. "You are… quite the interesting woman."

"Move aside."

The smirk still there, he took a step aside. Sarakshi made to sweep past him, but he caught her wrist from behind and spun her around to face him.

"We had a deal, Ishin." His tone was soft. "And whatever else I may or may not do, I will make sure you will see it through." His grip around her wrist relaxed, and then he was gone, and she was alone, her blue eyes wide in the darkness.

-;-

Sarakshi donned a dimpled smile, as she stepped into the staff area at Crème Maid, that evening. It wouldn't be fair to Manilla or her job, she thought, to turn up in low spirits. But the moment she entered, her smile disappeared: Manilla was seated on the counter, half tears in her eyes, and the rest of the maids were clustered around her.

"What's wrong?" Sarakshi closed the door behind her with the softest click.

Manilla looked up and, on seeing Sarakshi, mustered up a smile. It was a weak smile and, on Manilla who always smiled like she meant it, it looked anything but natural, even shocking. "It's nothing, Sarakshi-chan. Things like this do happen, from time to time. I'm sure I could look for another place."

"What do you mean?" There was a feeling of dread, a feeling she was coming to know, in the pit of Sarakshi's stomach.

"She's selling," Hianta said quietly.

"Selling?" The word felt alien on Sarakshi's tongue, like she had never heard or said it before.

"The Igarashi Foundation wants to buy the whole block," Mitsuko said, her tone bitter. "They've offered her excellent terms and conditions but, if she refuses to sell, their agent implied that things might become... difficult for her."

"They can't force her," Sarakshi's voice seemed caught in her throat. "She could take that up in a court."

"What good would that do her?" Hianta's voice was quiet. "Going against the Igarashi Foundation is as good as bulldozing the café. Manilla-chan's business reputation will go down the drain. Our clientele will be affected. The café wouldn't make any profits."

_We had a deal, Ishin. Whatever else I may or may not do, I will make sure you will see it through._ It's my fault, Sarakshi realized. If I wasn't working here, none of this would have happened. She could quit, couldn't she? No, she realized. Igarashi would still go ahead with the plan, because he knew she cared about the café.

_You manipulative bastard_, she thought. _You manipulative..._

"They're offering excellent compensation," Manilla's smile was watery. "Far more than the place is worth. I'm sure I could start another café." There was a mixture of hurt and disbelief and desperation in her voice. My fault, Sarakshi realized. My fault for dragging her into all of this. My fault that what she worked so hard for, all her dreams, everything is going down the drain. "Maybe even a hotel. Maybe even..."

"No," Sarakshi said.

Manilla's eyes rounded. "But, Sarakshi-chan, we can't refuse -"

"You don't have to. They'll withdraw the proposal."

"Sarakshi-chan..."

Sarakshi folded her arms across her chest. "Do you guys trust me?"

Manilla bit her lip. "Of course we do, but -"

"Then trust me on this."

-;-

"He did. You probably don't believe me. He knew happiness and love had a place in people's lives. He just... he just couldn't find room for it in ours."

For the first time since Sarakshi had acted in front of him, Daiki Hiroshi clapped. "Wonderful! Wonderful! You are getting it! You are getting it!" The little man shouted, clapping like a madman.

"It seems you've been practicing your lines, Kazuya-san." Tora's voice was close, too close and Sarakshi, who had been about to head into the changing rooms, felt his breath across her neck. She turned around, saw how close he was, and stumbled backwards. His hand caught her arm, holding it there until she regained her balance. Her eyes widened, as she realized the action was inadvertent. Impulsive. He leaned in, his lips next to her ear. "Why would that be?"

"Igarashi." She could hear the resolution in her voice. "There's something we need to talk about."

"Is there, now?" He said lazily.

For a moment, her eyes darkened with rage at the thought that he wanted to hear her say it. She refused to give him that satisfaction. "Manilla-san has nothing to do with this," she said, eyes narrowed.

"I have no idea." His eyes were amused. "What you are talking about."

It was useless, Sarakshi realized. Expecting Tora to accept he was behind the café's troubles, was like expecting to have an enlightening conversation with a wall. "You won, Igarashi." She did not feel as calm as she sounded. "I accepted your terms, and I will keep my side of the deal. If –" Her eyes flashed – "You leave my friends alone."

He took her chin between a thumb and an index finger, and lifted it. "When does your shift at the diner end?"

She forced herself not to flinch. "Midnight."

He released her. "I will pick you up. You will wear what I tell you to wear. Is that understood?"

"Igarashi." Her voice was cold.

He straightened, a smirk playing around his mouth.

"You aren't calling the shots here. I will let you..." Damn, it was hard to get the words out. _It's just a shirt,_ she reminded herself. _He's just going to take off a shirt. It's not like you're letting him undress you_. _You go around in far less on the beach._ The logic, though flawless, refused to appease her. She cleared her throat. "I will let you... take this off." She jerked a thumb towards her shirt. "But if you even think of doing anything more than that –" He was too tall. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him towards herself, so that she could look into his eyes, her own gaze like steel – "So help me, I will make you regret it."

Tora looked down at the hand clenched around a fistful of his shirt, his lips still curved in a smirk, his gaze amused. No other girl would have dared to do what she had just done, or to tell him what she had just told him. She had some nerve. She would be... fun to dominate. "I _am_ calling the shots here, Ishin," he smirked, brushing her lower lip with the tip of his thumb. "But don't worry. I won't touch you. Although –" He looked down at the hand still holding a fistful of his shirt as if it were quite an interesting scene, his voice devoid of any doubts whatsoever when he spoke again – "You will want me to."

Her eyes widened, her cheeks coloured, and she let go of his shirt. "You're vile," she snapped, turning around, heading for the nearest changing room, and banging the door shut behind her, her cheeks still flaming red.

Tora leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the door she had just disappeared through.

This was going to be far, far more interesting than he had thought at first.

* * *

><p><em>"He did. You probably don't believe me. He knew happiness and love had a place in people's lives. He just... he just couldn't find room for it in ours." This quote is from <em>the play <em>_Dangerous Angels__ by Scott C. Sickles. Which, to be honest, I've never read. I was looking for a line from a play to include in this chapter, and stumbled on this quote thanks to Google.__

__The titles of chapters four and five [__MADNESS, like gravity__ and__ just needs a little PUSH_]_ are taken from the quote 'You see, _madness_, as you know, is _like gravity_. All it takes is a little push!' from the movie, __The Dark Knight__.  
><em>_

__MARSBARYUM, Farynx99 and ulqui x: thank you for _the reviews. Reviews be nice. They give me warm and fuzzy feelings and make me want to update quickly-ish. =3  
><em>


	6. some say the world will end in Fire

****c h a p t e r s i x****

****some say the world will end in FIRE  
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* * *

><p>x<p>

She still had options, didn't she, Sarakshi told herself, as she hesitated behind the doors of the diner. She could walk out right now, and go home. She didn't have to face Igarashi. She could, but she didn't _have_ to.

It was a hollow thought, though, and she knew it. Manilla had been both stunned and overjoyed this evening, because the Igarashi Foundation had withdrawn its proposal with their "humble apologies for any inconvenience this might cause," and Sarakshi knew if she walked out and_ off_, tonight, she might as well burn down Crème Maid tomorrow. Because if the Igarashi Foundation returned with their proposal, they would not withdraw it a second time, unless Igarashi had what he wanted – and perhaps not even then.

The problem with having Tora Igarashi for a foe was that he had endless resources and no apparent conscience.

Just my luck, she thought, exasperated, as she squared her shoulders and, holding on as if for dear life to the bag she had spent half an hour packing, walked outside.

The night was dark, with just a few stars sprinkled across the vast, black sky, but even so, it would have been hard to miss the shining, silver limousine standing in front of the diner. Several children, obviously commoners, were gaping at it. Tora was leaning against it, distaste in his expression but, the moment his gaze met hers, he smirked.

"You took your time," he drawled.

"Igarashi." Her greeting was cold. "What an unpleasant surprise."

He made a soft, tut-tutting sound. "You know, Ishin –" He lowered his face to her, so that only she could hear his next words, his voice low and secretive – "I've been standing here for a while. I might have to punish you for keeping me waiting."

Sarakshi flushed red. "Can we get going?" she snapped.

"Don't you seem to be in a hurry." Tora's voice was all sorts of suggestive as he held open the door of the car for her, in a manner that was all Chivalrous Gentleman, and not a bit Manipulative Pervert. _It's just a shirt_, she reminded herself as she climbed in and, refusing to look at him, stared straight ahead, as if pretending it was alright would make it so. _  
><em>

It didn't.

-;-

What is it with rich men and gleaming possessions, Sarakshi thought, holding her bag against her chest, as she took in Tora's house. It gleamed in the darkness, all white squares and doors and balconies, a single light shining out through a window on the second floor.

"What's the matter, Ishin?" Tora placed a hand on her shoulder. He could make even that action condescending and harassing and soft as sin. "Is something… wrong?"

He seemed to be savouring the words. Sarakshi narrowed her eyes at him. "Your house is too small," she said, aiming to infuriate.

Tora didn't rise to the bait. He never did. "It's large enough for one person," he said. "Or should I say –" He bent his head, whispering the words into her ear – "Two people."

"You live alone?" Sarakshi was too stunned by the revelation to shove him off.

Tora straightened. "No." His voice was matter-of-fact. "But this place has its uses." His eyes lingered on her, amused and provoking, leaving her in no doubt whatsoever as to what these 'uses' were. She slung her bag over one shoulder, crossed her arms against her chest, and followed him inside. There was a lump in her throat that refused to leave, no matter how often she swallowed, and she could feel that gnawing sense of panic in the pit of her stomach.

_Calm down, you idiot,_ she thought, furious at herself. The hell she wasn't going to let him see she was unnerved. That would be his real victory, and her real loss.

The bedroom was, no surprises there, gleaming. It was done in soft colours and warm wood, a sofa set against a wall, and Sarakshi's cheeks coloured – everything about the room, from the cushions and the piles of pillows on the bed to the soft, yellow lighting and the coat draped negligently over the back of the sofa – seemed to have been chosen to suggest... all sorts of sinful things. Tora sat down on the edge of the bed, watching her, a slow, satisfied smirk crossing his features at the expression on her face.

She raised her chin. "Well?"

"Go change, Ishin." He could hear the power in his voice. He hadn't had to use it, not like this, in quite a while. Most girls he knew tripped over each other to please him. She stood out because she had no interest in anything he had to offer but then, that was what made her interesting. It wouldn't, after all, have been any fun if she _had_ been willing - just business as usual. "I want you in a judogi."

Right. She had had enough of his incurable need to make her feel as if he was in charge. She folded her arms across her chest. "Not until you ask nicely."

He raised an eyebrow. "What," his voice was dangerous. If this girl thought she could stand there and tell him that, she had a death-wish. "Did you say?"

"I said _not_. Until. You. Ask. Nicely."

He rose to his feet and closed the distance between them. "Are you sure you want me to ask... nicely?" he asked softly.

"I've already told you, Igarashi -" She stepped around him, refusing to let herself blush at the suggestion in his question - "That you don't intimidate me."

"Has anyone told you -" He made no move to stop her, but his smirk was infuriating. "That you're a bad liar?"

_Get it over with,_ she reminded herself. _Don't rise to the bait_. She grabbed her bag and kicked open the door which, she presumed, connected the room to the showers. She stepped through it, past the hallway lined with wooden cabinets, and into the shower room. It smelled of expensive cologne and equally expensive soap... and Sarakshi's eyes widened as she caught sight of the judogi hanging on the peg.

The jerk. The perverted, rich jerk. She had been telling herself it was just a shirt.

Igarashi had made sure it wasn't.

Under normal circumstances, she might have thought there was nothing wrong with the shirt. It wasn't the kind of shirt she would have worn under an uwagi, but it was an alright shirt all the same. Neat. Clean. White. But, looking at the row of buttons running down it, from the collar to the waist, she realized it wasn't alright tonight. She'd misjudged what Tora Igarashi wanted – he wanted a hell lot more, and he knew how to have it.

_If I win, I will take this off. Slowly._

Slowly. He had meant it, hadn't he? She leaned against the door, her breathing fast and furious. She had half a mind to walk out the door, and shake the living daylights out of him.

She didn't, though. She stripped off, changed into the judogi - the ridiculous shirt under her white jacket and all - and looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, that of a sixteen year old, five feet tall, nothing very special, her red hair hanging down her back, her eyes large and blue.

Well then.

She'd give him slowly.

She opened the bag she had brought with her and dumped on the clean, white counter, and got to work.

-;-

She was taking a long time in there. Tora, standing next to the curtained window and gazing outwards, was impatient, but not impatient enough to knock and ask the reason. Sooner or later, she would have to come out. One of the corners of his mouth lifted.

Patience had its prizes.

He heard the door open and then close and, the smirk widening, turned around.

The moment he did, the smirk vanished.

She looked – there was no other word for it – like a disaster. It wasn't her hair, which fell down her back in red waves; or her eyes, large and blue; or even her expression, a quite, quite satisfied one; but her clothes. She looked like a square bundle, covered in layers over layers of clothes in all sorts of colours and shapes and sizes. Her eyes locked with his gaze.

"Shall we get started, then?" she asked, dimpling and dropping her bag – which looked much, much lighter now, he realized, comprehension dawning across his mind – to the floor.

The little chit. His first instinct was to swear. His second, which he acted upon, was to smirk. How very interesting. He closed the distance between them and, the movement swift, pressed her against the door. Her eyes widened, the one sign of vulnerability he needed to get back into his stride, and his voice was low when he said. "Believe me, Ishin, you're going to wish you hadn't attempted to outmaneuver me."

Sarakshi swallowed the lump in her throat. The expression in his eyes, equal parts shock and irritation, when she had stepped outside and he had turned around, had been her personal revenge. He'd wanted to go slow, had he now? Well, it would take him ages to take off all those layers of clothes – jackets, shirts, half her wardrobe - as she had planned, last night. But when he spoke, she realized Tora Igarashi was far too maddeningly patient when he knew the ball was in his court, to outplay.

"So you think," she muttered.

His sole response was a smirk. He turned around and, without a word, switched off the lights. Her eyes widened. "This." It amazed her how calm she sounded. "Was not part of the plan, Igarashi."

"I have no idea," his smile was all dangerous teeth. "What you mean."

His hand closed around her wrist and, in one light movement, she had landed on the bed. "Igarashi." She could hear the anger in her voice. How _dare_ he think he could do as he pleased. "What the hell are you -"

"You didn't think." His voice was satisfied, as if her discomfort was some sort of personal revenge. "I was going to take off your shirt, _standing_?"

This was wrong. This was all wrong. Her part of the deal was not supposed to involve an air-conditioned room or lying on a bed. It wasn't supposed to, and it wasn't _going_ to. "Igarashi -"

He jerked off his shirt.

It infuriated her that he looked like a model, all planes and angles and hard muscles. If he had been anything like _who_ he was, she thought, he would have been three feet tall with no teeth, rather than six feet tall with a chest that looked like it had been sculpted. She raised her eyes from his flat stomach, only to meet his gaze.

He smirked. "What is it, Ishin?"

She sat up, the action defiant, and crossed her arms against her chest. "Our terms didn't include... all this." She looked around, indicating the unlit room.

"Neither did they include all this." He touched one of the jackets she was wearing and then, without warning, jerked it off. There was something too quick, too snappish about the movement, and Sarakshi realized he _was_ irritated, even if he was good at not showing it. She ought to have felt satisfied, but she didn't. Just furious. He pulled the next shirt off and she shoved him back, hard.

"This isn't a game, Igarashi!"

"Which means." His voice was cold, but he stepped back. "That there are no rules."

"Igarashi -"

He leaned over her. "Be quiet."

She could push him off, and what good would that do? In the end, the situation would still be what it was, and it would remain that until he took off that damned shirt he wanted to take off. She reached down and, in one quick motion, pulled off the topmost shirt. For a moment, his eyes widened. Then he straightened.

"I'm glad to see you agree," he said lazily.

"I don't." Her voice was curt. She pulled off another shirt, and then another, and then another. It occurred to her that she might just have been manipulated into making his task easier. "But I have better things to do than waste my time here, Igarashi. Let's get this over with." Still sitting on the bed, she threw the last shirt over her head and on the ground, so that she was in her judogi. "If you do anything other than take off my shirt, Igarashi –" she began, her voice fierce.

He placed a finger on her lips.

Sarakshi's eyes widened.

"You talk too much." He caught the tip of her chin, and forced her to look into his eyes. Whatever was there, seemed to satisfy him. He let go, slipped off her uwagi, and tossed it on to the floor. Then, with a movement so light it almost wasn't, he flicked open the first button of the shirt underneath. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, like the noise of a drum.

_It's just a shirt. It's just a shirt. It's just a -_

He hooked a finger in the second button and slowly, very slowly, flicked it open, and it was so much more.

She felt like panic, whatever panic felt like. Her chest was rising and falling, in short, quick movements, as if she had just run a marathon. Tora bent his head, touched the third button… and realized she was trembling.

"Ishin." His voice was different from anything she had heard before, not cold but authoritative. There was something else there too, something she could not recognize.

"What?" She forced herself to sound cool. Calm.

He raised his head. Her eyes were wide open and like panic, a direct contrast to her dead-calm voice. "You haven't done this before, have you?"

"That," she said loftily. "Is none of your concern."

"Woman -" He leaned in, his voice sharp. "Have you ever even kissed someone?"

"Of course I have." He could hear the indignation in her voice. "Just get on with..." She waved a hand, indicating their compromising position, with complete calm and total nonchalance. "This. I need to get home. I have things to do."

"Putting on a brave face." There was cool amusement in his tones. "How adorable."

There was a limit to the taunting she could take. "I said –" Sarakshi reached down, undid the next button, and met his gaze. "Just get on with it."

He tutted, the sound soft. "Unbuttoning yourself is against the rules, Sarakshi-chan," he breathed in her ear. "Do you want me to punish you for it?" He bent his head and, very slowly, very softly, took the next button between his teeth.

Sarakshi's eyes widened. She wasn't sure if she felt breathless or panicked or stunned, or all three. He felt her go rigid and, for a moment, he was still. Then he drew back.

"Get up."

"What?" Her voice was no longer calm. For the first time since she had arrived, it was breathless and out-of-sorts and full of panic.

He leaned down, buttoned her shirt, and rose to his feet. "Pick up your clothes." The sentence was cold, and she could not read his expression. "We're done here."

Her eyes widened. "But -"

"Ishin."

She had never thought someone could make her name sound like a promise and a threat and a demand and so, so much more. She stilled. There was a mixture of relief and shock and incomprehension knotting her throat.

Then indignation won.

"Are you _pitying_ me?"

The moment she said it, she regretted it: his smirk returned, and his eyes were full of that amused, sinful, promising light that made her cheeks colour. "No one in their right mind would pity you, Ishin." He said her name like he always did, like she was a toy made especially for his amusement. "I said we're done here. Which doesn't mean that I won't –" He leaned down again – "Punish you for ruining my fun."

Her cheeks flushed and, straightening up, he grinned. "You have five minutes to pick up your clothes, before I toss them outside the window." His voice was all brisk business. "I don't tolerate unnecessary decorations in my bedroom. Shall I start the countdown?"

Eyes widening, she scrambled out of bed, and stuffed her clothes into her bag. Tora's gaze was disdainful, as if she would never find _him_ picking up his own clothes_.  
><em>

"Shall we go?" He asked, as she picked up the last jacket.

She narrowed her eyes. If he thought she was letting him take her back home after all the harassment, he was more than mistaken. He was - not that there had ever been any doubt - an idiot. "I'm more than capable of getting back myself, Igarashi." She said, tone not gracious in the least. She swept past him, opened the bedroom door, and would have stepped outside, if his words – cool and amused – had not stopped her.

"Is it okay for you to go outside, dressed in that?"

She looked down at the ridiculous shirt and her judogi trousers. "Of course," she lied with total calmness. "What do you expect me to do, stay here and dress up?"

There was a touch of sarcasm and defiance in her voice, even now, which amused Tora. He walked up to her, picked the coat draped over the back of the sofa and, with a smirk, slipped it around her shoulders. Sarakshi's eyes widened. Sometimes, it was hard to tell if he was a total jerk or not; and, knowing him, that was just the kind of dilemma he would love to manipulate her into facing.

"What are you up to, Igarashi?"

He held the door open for her. "Go."

"No." She crossed her arms against her chest. "You can't be both a jerk and a gentleman. For heaven's sake, you can't unbutton my shirt against my wishes and then _offer me a coat_."

"I told." His voice was cool. "You to leave."

He was not going to get to toy with her any more than he already had. _"Why make me think you have real principles when I know you don't?_"

He pinned her against the door. The action was so sudden, so rough, Sarakshi felt like it knocked half the breath out of her. "You talk..." He leaned down and said the words against her lips. "Too much."

Her eyes widened. "You don't..." She shook the gravel out of her voice. "Scare me."

"One of these days." His voice was soft and silken and dangerous. "You're going to wish I did."

He let her go. Sarakshi realized the one wise thing she could do in this situation was to shut up and leave. Now. She wrenched open the door, her heart hammering against her ribcage but, one step outside the room, and her sense of doing the safer and less reckless thing deserted her - as usual. She turned around, eyes narrowed, and said,

"One of these days, Igarashi, you're going to wish you hadn't picked a fight with me."

This was the last time, the absolute last time, that Tora Igarashi got the better of her.

Turning around before he had a chance to respond, she stalked off.

-;-

The bus left her on the road right in front of Utsukushii Creek. Sarakshi climbed down, her hair scarlet against the white coat, and stopped short in her tracks. There was someone in the semi-darkness, leaning against the railing of the staircase that led up to the second floor, the light of the lampposts playing across his features.

Her eyes narrowed. "Marjani?"

"Ishin-san." He raised her hand to his mouth and, still not used to the action, she caught her breath as he brushed his lips across her knuckles.

"Marjani…" She looked up into his face. It was dark, with fine features, and that aura of danger that made people skirt away from him. "Why are you here?"

"I felt like it." His eyes lingered on her and she realized it was not her per se, but the coat that had his attention. He would recognize it didn't belong to her, at once – the coat, gleaming, expensive, tailored to size, had Igarashi stamped all over it - but, for once, she didn't care.

"How come?" She tilted her, eyeing him, as curious as she was suspicious.

"There have been a series of burglaries in this part of the city." His hands were in his pockets and his voice was emotionless. "I was, shall we say… worried."

Sarakshi resisted the urge to snap at him. There was no need to take out the anger she felt for Igarashi, on Marjani Suoh. "There was no need," she said levelly. She could take care of herself. Besides, if a burglar ever chose to break into her apartment, he would wish he hadn't. There wasn't much to steal, unless someone was interested in thieving chocolate and celeries and textbooks. "Why are you really here, Marjani?"

"What did he -" He motioned to the coat, face deadpan - "Do to you?"

She realized it had been foolish to think he would never ask. She looked up, at his tall, dark figure, and wished that it was possible to read his eyes. "Nothing. Though I do believe," her voice was very level. "What I do with him, is none of your business."

"I see," he said. She couldn't have said he believed her. His eyes held no expression, just darkness, as if he had shut her out.

"Marjani..." She folded her arms against her chest. "I'm trying to be nice, I really am, but I've had a bad night, and I'm not in the mood to play any more games. _Why the heck are you really here?_"

His eyes met hers, and there was a dark, lurking sort of emotion in them that she couldn't have identified. "Do I not... intimidate you?"

The question caught her off guard. When Igarashi asked it, he asked it to madden her. But there was nothing like a taunt in Marjani's voice. He was, she realized, as close to curious as Marjani Suoh would ever be. She tilted her head and, not sure how to process this new turn of events, frowned.

"It's funny," she said at last, not sounding as if it were funny at all. "How I keep getting asked that, of late. I suppose I should get used to it." She stuck her hands into the pockets of the coat. "No, you don't. You give off this dangerous vibe, Suoh, and it makes me have second thoughts about talking to you. But no. It doesn't - as you put it - 'intimidate' me."

He looked at her, as if attempting to see through her, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me. You came all the way here to ask me _that_?"

His eyes flickered. "Does that bother you?"

"Of course," she said. "It creeps me out knowing that you would wait out here in the dark, just to ask me a question like that. But..." Her eyes softened. "It's fine. You know what? We all do things other people don't understand." She ran a hand through her hair. Darn, she was exhausted. On some sort of emotional level that she didn't even want to think about. "Good night, Marjani."

He didn't respond. She climbed up the stairs, her hair scarlet against the white overcoat, reached the door of her apartment, and unlocked it. Hand on the doorknob, she turned around. Marjani was standing there, a silhouette against the lamplight, looking at her. It occurred to her that, perhaps, she ought to be wary of him. She wasn't. She just wasn't. She raised a hand, intending to wave but, at the last moment, she lowered it.

He bowed, and then he was gone.

-;-

Sarakshi switched on the lights, and stepped inside her apartment. The place smelled of lavender and roses and chocolate. She breathed in the scent and, as she did so, she realized something else. There was another scent in the air, a delicious, wicked, expensive scent that seemed all sin and gorgeousness.

Igarashi's coat.

It came down to her knees and, now that she had been jerked back into her real world, she realized it smelled indescribable. Her eyes widening, she slipped out of it as if it were a live wire. The coat lay in a neat little heap on the floor, motionless. Biting her lip, Sarakshi picked it up, which was when she felt something in one of the pockets. Unsure, she reached into it. It was a wallet, stuffed with notes, business cards and what not.

Damn. Just her luck that she'd been given a coat that contained _money_.

She'd have to return it, first thing tomorrow.

-;-

Tora placed his hands behind his head, against the armrest of the couch, gazing at the door through which Sarakshi had gone.

There was a smile playing around his mouth, and it was wicked.

* * *

><p><em>The chapter title comes from Robert Frost's poem, <em>Fire and Ice_. (Do google it, if you haven't read it. It's amazing.)_

_I'm thinking of throwing in some beach-iness or onsen-ness in the next chapter. Almost all good s_hōjo manga/ anime seem to have beach and/ or onsen chapters/ episodes. ;P__

_Farynx99, NerdPop, MARSBARYUM and MoyaMetalDango13: Thank you for the reviews. =)_

_Added: Thank you for all the feedback. =) (And, just sayin', I've read that fic. I REALLY enjoyed it, but it annoys me that almost ALL the good Tora/ Misaki fics on the internet end with Usui/ Misaki. And if they don't, that's almost always because Usui dies. =( =S) Chapter 50 is definitely one of my favourite Maid-sama chapters. It, and all the chapters that have Kuuga/ Sakura stuff XD aand I do hope your cold's gotten better. ^_^_


	7. some say in Ice

****c h a p t e r s e v e n****

****some say in ICE.  
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><p>x<p>

Einstein himself, Sarakshi thought as she frowned down at her notebook, could not have solved this numerical problem.

"I don't get it," she said, out loud.

"That's the point." Linda, who was seated ahead of her, leaned backwards, spilling a large amount of sleek blonde hair over Sarakshi's desk in the process. "If you get it, it isn't a numerical _problem_ anymore, is it?"

"Aren't you just the most helpful person on the planet," Sarakshi muttered.

Linda grinned. "Shouldn't you be utilizing this time to have fun?" she asked, tilting her chair backwards. "That's what normal students do when a teacher doesn't show up."

Sarakshi poked the blonde's back with the butt of her pencil. "Don't flash your hair all over my desk."

Linda grinned. "I feel like it."

"You're grinning a lot today." Sarakshi eyed her friend. "What are you up to now?"

"Well.."

Sarakshi raised an eyebrow. "Spill, Williams."

"I'm going to the beach with a bunch of friends." Linda flashed her her most stunning smile. "You wanna come?"

There was a pause. Then,

"That," Sarakshi said drily. "Should not sound as suspicious as it does."

Linda grinned and then, to Sarakshi's surprise, straightened up, turned around her chair and, elbows resting on Sarakshi's desk, leaned forward. "I'm participating in the Yuri Bishojo Beach Contest."

"You are... participating in the Yuri Bishojo Beach Contest," Sarakshi repeated, voice dry. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Is this the part where you tell me beauty pageants are useless, and I tell you why they aren't?"

Sarakshi closed her notebook, and looked up at the blonde. "No," she said. "It's the part where I ask you what your participation has to do with me."

"Well.." Linda's smile was all sparkling teeth and gorgeous lips. "The winner is decided via voting. I need more people to vote for me."

"And it doesn't bother you," Sarakshi's voice was incredulous. "That that would be cheating?"

"Everyone invites their friends. It's fair game, woman. In fact, the organizers promote it. The more people there are, the better for them, after all."

"That wouldn't be a _real_ win, though," Sarakshi pointed out.

"Pffft." Linda flipped her hair back. "Do you think anyone cares about winning? No one wants the title. Just the backstage passes to the UxMishi concert the winner gets. The band's stopped distributing backstage passes by the ton, ever since Kuuga got together with that rose-haired girlfriend of his." Linda rolled his eyes, as if to say, _could he have been any dumber?_ "Fangirls wouldn't want to miss this chance."

"Since when did you become an UxMishi fangirl?" Sarakshi asked, eyebrow raised.

"Since Shousei Nikaidou joined the band." Linda flashed her supermodel smile.

Sarakshi had to smile, too. Linda was a natural charmer, the kind of person who loved to live, and made you want to do the same. "I'll come," she said. Open cheating would still be cheating but the truth was, she doubted anyone _could_ beat Linda. "But..." She could feel the grin in her words. "I'm not promising to vote for you."

"Somehow, I knew you would say that," Linda said, shaking her head. "The woeful levels of degeneration that today's friends have fallen to. Whatever happened to awesome statements like You Can Trust On Me?"

Sarakshi rolled her eyes. "Knowing you, you've made sure one vote can't get you out of the running. Who else is coming?"

"Sora and several dozen others."

Sarakshi's jaw dropped open. "You invited _several dozen people_?"

Linda flipped her hair. "I want those passes, woman."

"I can tell," Sarakshi muttered, as the teacher stepped into the class.

-;-

Finding Tora Igarashi was not a hard task. If he was not in class or the student council block, he was surrounded – almost without break – by a gaggle of tall, perfect-skinned, well-endowed females.

"Igarashi," Sarakshi said, walking up to him, her bag slung over her shoulder.

Tora looked up and smirked. The girl at his side narrowed her eyes. "Ishin," he returned lazily.

How he could drive her mad by just stating her name, Sarakshi had no idea. It was, she supposed, one of his many, varied talents. "I need to talk to you," she said, ignoring his dark-skinned girl's murderous glare.

"Will you excuse me for a minute, Kaiyo?" Tora turned to the girl at his side. She whispered something that sounded like a seductive I Shall Be Waiting, and Tora leaned in, one hand behind her head, one on her shoulder, and kissed her. If kiss was even the right word. Sarakshi stared in the opposite direction but, when Tora rose to his feet and turned to her, her cheeks were pink.

"Is something the matter, Ishin?" he asked, grin wicked, as he fell in step besides her.

"You're such an animal," Sarakshi muttered.

"Ah yes," he said. "I have… animal instincts."

Memories of the night before flashed in her mind's eyes: the image of him bending down and, with no remorse whatsoever, taking one of her shirt buttons between his teeth. Her cheeks turned a vivid scarlet. Tora smirked, as if he knew exactly what she was remembering.

"I wanted to return your coat." Sarakshi forced herself to meet his mocking gaze. "You left a wallet in it, too." Her tone was dry. "Here." She reached for her bag, but he caught her arm. She looked up, her eyes murderous. "_What_ are you playing at?"

It amused him, how both predictable and unpredictable she was. How one sign of dominance from him could both make her both blush red to the tips of her toes and snap at him like a furious cat. "Tell me you need me," he said, having decided that the statement was an excellent one to use, considering its shock value.

"You are not right in the head," she gave a sad shake of her head. "Believe me, I feel for you."

He took a step towards her and Sarakshi arched an eyebrow. "I'm sure you don't –" he said, his hands in the pockets of his slacks – "Want to be expelled for stealing, Ishin."

It took her a moment to realize what he meant. Then her eyes widened. "You wouldn't." She could feel the disbelief in her voice. "Stoop that low."

"It amuses me that you feel the need to see some good in me." He leaned forward and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "If I take you to the Headmaster's office right now, Ishin, who would he believe? The President of the Student Council or –" He backed her against a tree-trunk – "The commoner who works at a _maid_ cafe?"

She had thought he was vile. Sarakshi realized now that she had been wrong. Tora Igarashi was not vile: he was _lecherous_. "You're the last person who would take your problems to the Headmaster." She said, sounding convinced of it even if she didn't feel half as convinced. "So tell me, Igarashi.. what the hell do you want?"

"I'll take the wallet back –" His voice was so amused, it made her want to grab him by the shoulders and shake the living daylights out of him – "If you'll model that coat for me." He placed a hand beside her head, on the tree-trunk. "Just the... coat," he said lazily.

She was aware that her cheeks had just turned a vivid shade of scarlet. "You pervert."

"Is that so?" He tilted her chin upwards. "Your face feels hot, Ishin."

She slapped his hand away. How was he always one step ahead of her? How did he always end up leading the conversation? "Igarashi." Her voice was cold. She didn't get him. Damn it, she didn't get him. "_Why did you let me go last night, in the first place_?"

"You were trembling." His voice was dismissive. "It was a turn off."

"I was not!"

His smile was all dangerous teeth. "Do you want me to prove that you were, Ishin?" He asked lazily.

She could feel heat creeping up into her cheeks. She threw her bag on the floor. "I'm not letting you control how I act, Igarashi. If you want your things, take them. If you don't, you can –"

"Didn't you believe we were rivals?" The sudden question caught her off guard. "This –" He straightened up and waved a hand to indicate the bag on the floor – "Why we will never be rivals. You're too weak, Ishin. You're not good enough to be my –"

Her palm met his cheek with a harsh sound.

"You won one measly time, Igarashi! That does not make you better than me!"

There was a tense, dead silence; a tense, dead silence in which Sarakshi could feel her heart beating against her chest with a sort of mangled, reckless intensity characteristic of the moment between leaping and falling.

Then Igarashi straightened up. His eyes were dark and, when he spoke, his voice was cool. "There has never been a question of _comparison_ between the two of us." He stepped back and turned around. "Keep the money, commoner. I have a feeling you could do with some. Besides, you _were_ such good... entertainment."

There are some things that infuriate you, but you will bear. There are some, that you cannot. Will not.

The implication that he was paying her for whatever had happened the night before, was one of those.

"How would it feel." She stepped in front of him. Blocked his path. "If a commoner bashes your head open, _rich kid_?"

Her hair had come out of its elastic tier and her eyes were burning with something like real, sheer anger. Tora smirked. "You'd have to get on the same level as me first, Ishin. You see." He did the sole thing he knew would infuriate her more than what he had implied, half a minute ago. He placed a condescending hand on the top of her head. Her hair was soft, softer than he had thought it would be and, for half a moment, he was surprised. Then he smirked. "You have some growing to do here." Her eyes widened and he leaned in and whispered. "There, too."

There? She followed his gaze... to her chest.

The wicked amusement returned to his eyes. "Work on it, commoner."

Her hand clenched around the fabric of his shirt. She had intended the action to be threatening, though it amused him. "So help me, Igarashi, I will make you _take_ that money back."

"How?" He placed his hand on top of hers, an action so unexpected, she took a step backwards. "Even showing up in my... coat wouldn't persuade me to take it back, Ishin. Though..." His lips curved into a grin. "It might incite me to help you out further. There is, after all, more where that came from." His eyes travelled to the bag that contained the wallet.

"Sick is not." Sarakshi could feel the cold anger in her tone. "The word for you."

She looked like she wanted to strangle him and all that defiance made him want to grin. "Tell you what, Ishin." It was wonderful to manipulate her. Especially considering her habit to fall right into the trap. "I'll take it back if you do win against me at something."

"You're on, _rich kid_."

He grinned. This was going to be very, very interesting.

-;-

"You did not tell me." Sarakshi could hear how dry her voice had gone. "That you invited half of Miyabigoka High."

The beach smelled of sand and rain and wind and salt. It stretched out, a delicious brown curve flanked by sand-and-rock structures, and decorated as if for a bash. Banners flared. Men strutted about. Bikini-clad girls sidled up to potential voters.

"I told you I invited Sora and several dozen others, didn't I?" Linda tutted. She was wearing a bikini that showed more than it concealed, the kind of glittering, sparkling thing Sarakshi would not have been caught dead in, and she seemed to fit right into the scene. Like it was made for her. She bent and sent a dark-haired young man an enthusiastic kiss. "Where did you think I got the several dozen people, off the Internet?"

"There's _half_ the school here, Williams."

"Of course there is. I'm popular, aren't I?"

It occurred to Sarakshi that Linda _was_ popular and, as Sora came up to them, tripping in the process, her flyaway hair more flyaway than ever, Sarakshi frowned as she realized that Linda never hung out with the "popular" ladies. Not like she hung out with her and Sora. "I suppose." Her eyes scanned the beach and then, for one moment, her heart seemed to stop. "Linda." She turned to the blonde.

"What?" Linda, who had dived into conversation with Sora, asked.

"Did you invite _Igarashi_?"

Linda looked up. "The prez?"

The prez. That was a nice name, Sarakshi thought, if you added Of Perverted Manipulative-dom to it. "Yes," she said. "The _prez_."

"No, I didn't." Linda tucked a golden bang behind her ear but Sarakshi's relief that she had mistaken someone else for Igarashi was shortlived. Because the next moment, Linda straightened up and said,

"But several of his girlfriends probably did."

-;-

From where she was seated, behind a tall, broad rock that jutted out of the earth and hid whatever was behind it from the rest of the beach, Sarakshi could just see the beauty contest in progress, if she leaned forward. There was a tall girl blowing kisses at the audience. Then someone stepped in her line of sight. It was Linda.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. "You're missing out on all the fun."

"I'm fine here, thanks," Sarakshi said drily. It was a good thing the population present at the beach, right now, was concentrated in that one spot where the contest was happening because she didn't want to run into Igarashi. She'd had enough of him the afternoon before and she had promised herself that, the next time she saw him, she would challenge him, defeat him and make him take that darned wallet back.

"You avoiding someone?" Linda asked.

"Sort of." Sarakshi looked up at her. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be over there?"

"The votes are being cast." Linda looked down at her with what could be called a critical eye. "Why the hell are you wearing shorts?"

Sarakshi looked down at her clothes. "What's wrong with shorts?"

"You're on a _beach_, woman."

"This _is_ my beachwear," Sarakshi said. She dressed up all the time and, while dressing up could be enormous amounts of fun, strutting along the beach in a bikini was not her idea of dressing up. Or fun. Or even being practical. "Come on, let's get back. I need to drop in my vote, anyway."

"I got it covered," Linda grinned. "President Igarashi is voting for me."

There was a pause. Then Sarakshi said, incredulous, "Igarashi is voting for _you_? Why on earth?"

"He didn't want to vote for his girlfriends," Linda snickered. "I offered him a free lunch if he'd vote for me."

"He's rich," Sarakshi pointed out. "Why on earth would he be lured by a free lunch?"

Linda raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes, Sarakshi, you're so naive, it hurts me to think of it." She shook her head in a sad, sad manner. "I'm _beautiful_, aren't I?"

Sarakshi had a feeling that, had she been drinking something right then, she would have choked on it. "You are both... creeps."

"It's all in good fun." Linda brushed it off like it was nothing. "It's not like he's_ interested_ in me. Or I in him. Beautiful people just like _looking_ at each other. Besides -" she stopped and took a sharp intake of breath.

"Linda?" Sarakshi asked, voice uncertain.

"Who is that?" Linda breathed.

Sarakshi followed her gaze. There was a figure on the beach, tall, shirtless and breathtaking. Dark-skinned, his muscles were hard, the kind that made men envious, and he had a prowling, dangerous sort of grace. His hair was dark and dripping and, Sarakshi knew who it was, even though the boy could only be seen in side profile, his face not turned to them.

"He looks _dangerous_." Linda said dangerous in the same manner that normal people would have said 'awesome!' Her voice was a kind of awed whisper that made it clear she didn't think it would be wise to be within five feet's distance of the guy, but she sure as heck _wanted_ to be. "Sarakshi? Where are you going?"

But Sarakshi was no longer where she had been. She had gotten to her feet and, as she neared the boy, she blinked. "Marjani?"

He turned around. The moment he did, Sarakshi's eyes widened. There was a foot long scar running down his chest. It seemed to fit. Like it was meant to be there. Part of who he was.

"Ishin-san." He took her hand and brushed his lips across the top of it.

"Why are you here? " She tilted her head to look up at him. "I wouldn't have put you down as the kind of guy who enjoyed coming to.. beach beauty contests."

"I accompanied someone." His tone was flat. Devoid of expression. She had a feeling who that someone was female, and the topic was not up for discussion.

"I see." She had a desire to look at his scar again, that wicked thing with almost jagged edges, and reminded herself that would be rude.

"You should join us," a breathless voice said. Sarakshi turned around to see Linda. In Marjani's presence, dark and aloof, Linda looked like a sudden burst of light. The blonde hair, the hazel eyes, the white skin. It was almost like... _chiaroscuro_, Sarakshi thought, blinking. "I see you and Sarakshi know each other. You should join us." Her voice faltered and Sarakshi realized that Marjani _did_ intimidate people.

Just went to prove something was wrong with her. Not that she hadn't known that all along, considering that she wanted to strangle the heir to the Igarashi Foundation.

Marjani raised Linda's hands to his lips.

"Of course."

His voice was flat but Linda's smile was anything but. "I'm Linda Williams."

"Marjani Suoh."

"Of the Suoh family?" Linda grinned. "Nice to meet ya." She scanned the beach, spotted Sora under a giant umbrella, and strutted off towards it. The normal observer might have thought she was leading him to some spot. Sarakshi realized that wasn't the case - though how she knew that, she couldn't have said - and that Linda was keeping an unconscious distance between herself and Marjani.

"You'd think he bites," Sarakshi murmured.

Marjani, the closest to her, caught the words. "I'll assume you weren't talking about me, Ishin-san."

Sarakshi arched an eyebrow. "I was," she said. "I suppose there _is_ something darkish about you." She tilted her head to one side and inspected him, as if attempting to discover what it was. His eyes were dark. Like shutters. Blocking out the rest of the world. "I think it's your eyes. What do you think?"

There was something like the faintest trace of surprise in his expression. "Have you ever felt," he said. "That you might lack the instinct of self-preservation?"

"Why do I have a feeling that you aren't being sarcastic?" Sarakshi asked drily.

His eyes locked with hers. She had the urge to shiver, not because she was afraid, but because she couldn't _see_ anything there. Vacant. His eyes were vacant.

"Sora!" Linda's voice, a little too bright (the one sign that she _was_ nervous), interrupted their conversation. If it could even be called a conversation, Sarakshi thought, as she and Marjani both looked up. "Meet Marjani Suoh. Marjani...san." There was a pause, in which Sarakshi stared at Linda. Linda never used titles. _Never_. "My friend, Sora Kiyoshi."

Sora, who had been playing chess against herself, looked up. Her eyes widened. "H-hello," she stammered. "I'm.. I'm Sora."

I'm scared to death of you, Sarakshi thought drily as she propped herself up on a beach chair and picked up one of Linda's magazines, would have been a better introduction.

"Kiyoshi-san." Marjani's voice was polite and Sora's eyes widened further, as if the cultured tone and manner had been the last thing she had expected of him.

Linda lowered herself on to a chair and motioned to one in front of her. Marjani sat down and, for a moment, everyone was quiet: Linda biting (in an uncharacteristic turn of events) the inside of her cheek, Sora fidgeting with her chessboard and Marjani... being Marjani. Tall and dark and quiet and lethal. Then, as Sarakshi flipped open the magazine, a shadow fell over them and a soft voice said,

"Marjani. I had no idea you were... _friends_ with Linda-san."

Sarakshi would have recognized that voice in a crowd of a million people. She held the magazine in front of her face. If she could just look at it long enough, perhaps Igarashi would disappear and... her eyes widened as she registered _what_ she was looking at. _What were you expecting when you picked up one of Linda's magazines, woman?_ She thought. It was one of those fashion magazines that concentrated less on fashion, and more on blown-up pictures of bikini-clad babes and shirtless men. That, and blown-up pictures of bikini-clad babes and shirtless men _kissing_.

"Tora." She could hear the stillness that had crept into Marjani's voice.

Linda raised an eyebrow. "You two know each other?"

Tora placed an arm around her shoulders. "Marjani and I are... cousins." His tone was just a little too amused.

Linda pulled up another chair. "You wanna join us, prez?"

"It would be my pleasure." Sarakshi heard Tora's footsteps and, it was not until a large shadow blocked all her light, that she realized he had not been moving towards a chair, but that he was standing over her. He leaned down and, in one swift movement, her magazine was in his hands. He looked down at the page, at the picture of the not-wearing-much couple kissing, and his lips curved into a smirk.

"My my, Ishin." His voice was soft. "I had no idea you enjoyed this kind of thing." He leaned down, as if to put back the magazine but, as he did so, he whispered, "You should have told me that night. I'm sure we could have gotten straight to the... good parts." He dropped the magazine on to the pile of magazines and straightened up, as if nothing had happened, and Sarakshi could feel her cheeks growing pink.

"I didn't know what that magazine was about," she snapped, embarrassed enough to sound defensive.

"Of course you didn't, Ishin...san." He pulled up a beach chair, at an angle to hers, and then he said, his voice all charm and politeness, "Kiyoshi-san. If it doesn't inconvenience you, could I borrow your chessboard?"

Sora's eyes widened behind her glasses and, for a moment, Sarakshi felt for her. The poor girl had still not gotten used to Marjani's prowling presence, and now Igarashi was here, all fake, prince-like manners. "Of - of course." She held it out but her hands shook a little and the item flipped over. Igarashi caught it, before it could fall right on top of Sora's feet. What surprised Sarakshi was not the fact that he caught it but the fact that the action was so.. natural. Like he would have caught the board, even if he wasn't the one it was being handed to.

Then she realized that he was looking at her and her eyes narrowed. "What is it, Igarashi?"

He leaned forward. "Play with me."

Not will you play with me, but play with me. The presumptuous jerk. She was aware of Marjani's gaze on her but, when she glanced up, he was talking to Linda. She looked back to Igarashi, and crossed her arms. "You play chess?" she asked suspiciously.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "All kinds," he said the words against the top of her hand.

Sarakshi jerked her hand back. "No, thank you," she snapped. "You can play with yourself. God knows you have enough of an ego for several hundred people."

"Does it bother you that you're unlikely to win?"

She looked up and her eyes met Marjani's. His gaze was hard and dark and... displeased. He shook his head and she realized that he was telling her not to rise to the bait. "No," she said, her voice short.

"Like you did... last time." Tora's voice was all implications.

Enough, Sarakshi thought drily, was enough. "I'm white," she snapped.

That, Tora reflected with a smirk, had been simpler than he had imagined. "Move over, Ishin," he smirked.

"What?"

He placed the chessboard on her chair. Sarakshi moved back on impulse and he sat down, amusement reflected in his eyes, she realized that that had, no doubt, been one of the most stupid moves of her life. Throwing Igarashi a look, and not a nice one at that, she dropped her gaze to the chessboard and moved a pawn.

"Shall I –" Tora leaned forward to move a pawn and his gaze was all golden and all sinful – "Undress you, if you lose?"

Sarakshi's cheeks flushed red. "Pervert," she hissed, moving a piece.

"You're blushing, Ishin."

"I'm going to hit you with this chessboard, Igarashi."

Her mind was not on the game and Tora, as he knocked off yet another of the white pieces, could not help but smirk. "I'm going to throw you back on that chair and kiss you, Ishin."

Her eyes widened and she forgot what piece she had wanted to move. She looked up, saw his smirk, looked down at the chessboard and, furious, moved the first piece that her eyes fell on.

"Checkmate," Tora said lazily.

Sarakshi bit back the swearword at the tip of her tongue and, noticing her exression, he grinned. "Didn't I say." His voice was soft. "That there could be no comparison."

"That was _not_ a fair game," she snapped.

Tora knocked her king off the chessboard, leaned forward and said,

"I _never_ play fair."

Then he rose to his feet and walked off.

-;-

That had been the whole ridiculous point, hadn't it? To prove to her that he was _better_. Sarakshi wanted nothing more than to walk after him and punch him in the stomach. She sat there, her eyes narrowed, realizing that she had just let him control her actions all over again.

"They're about to announce the results!" Linda's voice seemed to come from a far way off. Sarakshi was aware, in a distant sort of manner, that the blonde had jumped to her feet.

"We should go." Sora, who seemed to have regained her voice at long last, ventured.

"Of course we should." Linda looked towards the other corner of the beach, the corner full of banners and podiums and gathering people and what not, and then at Marjani. "Will you come, Marjani-sa... Marjani?"

"There's someone I should be meeting up with, Williams-san. If you'll excuse me."

"Of course," Linda said. "You two coming? Sora? Sarakshi?"

Sora nodded but, as Marjani turned around, Sarakshi shook her head. Marjani's eyes were like closed windows again - Unreadable. Except that, the fact that the shutters came down when he was angered, was the one thing Sarakshi had learned about him - and she realized that he was miffed. If Marjani Suoh could ever be miffed.

"I'll join you two in a minute," she said, but Linda was gone. Sora gave her a little nod, before heading after Linda and Sarakshi, hands in the pockets of her shorts, attempted to catch up with Marjani. It was a harder task than she had imagined, considering that his strides were much longer than hers and, within moments, he was far ahead of her.

"Marjani?" She called.

He didn't turn back. She narrowed her eyes and, picking up her pace, caught his forearm from behind.

The moment she did so, she realized she had made a mistake. She could feel the brute strength in his arm, in the hard, hard, dark muscles that ran along it, and she could tell that you did not, did not ever, touch Marjani Suoh without his permission. There was something in the way he stilled, the way he moved, the way he turned, that was feral and made you want to step back. Run off.

She let go, as if burned.

"May I help you, Ishin-san?" His voice was perfectly polite.

"You're angry," she said. It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"I'm glad you can tell." There was nothing humorous about the statement. In fact, its total lack of humour made Sarakshi flinch. She felt as if she had slipped some days ago, and was still slipping, slipping, slipping. How the hell had she landed into this mess? Igarashi? Marjani?

"You're angry because I agreed to a match with him, when you told me not to?" She crossed her arms across her chest. "What am I, mandated to adhere to your wishes?"

"Is that all you wanted to say?"

She blinked. "What?"

"If that's all you wanted to say, Ishin-san, enjoy the rest of your stay."

He walked off. Sarakshi stared after him. What was his _problem_? She turned her back on him, the action all defiant, and stared at the hullabaloo at the far end of the beach. She ought to go there. See who had won.

She didn't want to.

She walked along the beach, her feet leaving footprints in the sand, and the water lapping at her ankles. She did not get Marjani Suoh. She did _not_ get Marjani Suoh. What was he, she thought, as she waded into the sea, kicking at the water and sand, and coming to a halt at the cove. Someone she just knew? No. He wasn't someone she just knew. Her friend? Friend, she thought drily, was the one thing she doubted Marjani had ever been to anyone.

"If it isn't the lead in this year's play."

Her gaze snapped up. Igarashi was ridiculously tall. He seemed to fill the cove, all shirtless chest and dripping blond hair. He picked a strand of her hair, before letting it fall against her cheek. "Your clothes seem in a state, Sara-chan," he said, his eyes lingering on her chest.

"At least I have clothes on, Igarashi," she scowled, crossing her arms across her chest. "Don't you have anything better to do than stalk me?"

He grinned. "You keep getting more and more interesting," he said, his voice a caress. "Would you like me to make you more… interesting?"

Sarakshi flushed. "I've been thinking, Igarashi."

"I'm stunned."

She looked up at him and there was humour in his eyes, actual humour. It occurred to Sarakshi that, if he hadn't been the evil, manipulative jerk that he was, she would actually have laughed at his comment. He _was_ an evil, manipulative jerk, however, and her eyes narrowed. "If I beat you at something, you will take your things back, won't you?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Considering that the prospects of your winning against me are nonexistent..."

"Igarashi." She looked up into his face. "I could beat you at _all sorts_ of things with my eyes closed."

"You wouldn't be in a position to beat me at anything if you close your eyes when I'm around, Ishin." His voice was suggestive.

It was impossible to have an actual conversation with him, Sarakshi thought drily. "If you can challenge me to a chess match," she said, ignoring his remark altogether. "I can challenge you to a cooking contest."

He arched an eyebrow. "You can challenge me to a... cooking contest," he repeated. There was sarcasm in his voice.

"I am an _excellent_ cook," Sarakshi said, miffed. "So unless you want to end up in a kitchen attempting to make something that human beings can eat without dying right afterwards, I suggest you take your stupid coat back."

"You know, Ishin." He backed her against the wall of the cove. "I might not be opposed to that plan."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I do like the idea of sharing a... kitchen with you."

"Do you always have to be a jerk?" She had thought he would be shocked at her idea, darn it. Considering that he hadn't restricted the challenges to a specific set of skills and she had exploited that loophole. "I'm serious, Igarashi!"

She was... interesting. He leaned in. "Vixen," he said, his lips inches apart from hers.

"Idiot," she muttered, looking down at her hands.

He grinned. "I'll take it back, Vixen-san. I do, however, have a condition."

"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow. "You can keep your condition then, Igarashi. Because you know what? I don't give a damn."

"Does this mean you want to keep the money, Ishin?" He caught her arm and pinned her to the wall of the cove in one, swift movement. "Because I'm not opposed to.. helping you out every now and then."

"You seem to be entertaining yourself quite well these days, Tora."

Tora let go of her and turned around. Marjani was standing there, behind the two of them, and his face was deadpan.

"I have to ask, Marjani," Tora's voice was calm and lazy and insolent. "What is it about her that makes you want to pull the hero act? She can't be paying you to be her bodyguard."

Marjani raised an eyebrow.

"Ah." Tora's smile was all wicked teeth. "I should have known. Your need to save people. Your... Messiah Complex."

Marjani's eyes flashed to life. Dangerous. Feral. Warning. For a moment, Sarakshi felt as if he would lunge at Tora's throat. Then the moment was gone, Marjani's and Tora's gazes held, and Tora turned to her.

"You still have something of mine," he said, brushing his thumb across her lower lip. "I want it back." Her eyes widened as she understood that he had just agreed to something he had, until a few seconds ago, been in no mood to agree to. Then he spoke again and she realized that it was because he wanted Marjani to hear his next words. "Expect me." He left. The moment he did, Sarakshi crossed her arms across her chest.

"You're mistaken if you think I needed saving." Her voice was cool. "I fight my own battles, I can take of myself and –" She locked her eyes with Marjani's gaze – "I would appreciate it if you didn't follow me becuase you think I'm in some sort of_ dange_r from your cousin."

"I know." Marjani's eyes were still like shutters. He turned around to leave.

"Oh no you don't, mister." Sarakshi caught his forearm and, this time, her grip was stronger, more confident, and quite, quite Sarakshi-ish.

"Sarakshi."

He'd dropped the -san and she frowned. "You know what, Marjani?" She said. "I understand now why you were angry."

"I see."

She ignored his impassiveness. "I wasn't concentrating on the game. You could tell that. You were..." It surprised her that she hadn't realized it before. "Worried." She paused. "I know I said we all do things other people don't understand. But I still think you need to..." She looked up into his face. "Chill out. Take a breather."

He turned around and, for the first time since she had known him, he smiled. "Has anyone told you you speak too much?"

If she started counting the number of times she had been told that, the world would end and she still wouldn't be done counting. That, however, was the last thing on Sarakshi's mind at the moment. What was on her mind, was Igarashi's words. "You speak too little," she pointed out.

"I'm working on it."

She wanted to ask him why he was working on it and how he could make a smile seem like a rare thing and what it was about him that made Igarashi change his decision just to announce that he, Igarashi, would be there, in front of him.

"Guys," she said drily. "Baffle me."

His sole thought, before she took his arm as if that was the most natural thing in the world and said, "Come on, Danger Sign. Let's go see who won." was that he understood the reason Tora could not seem to let go of her.

-;-

Sora played chess against herself. Sarakshi participated in a game of beach volleyball. Linda won the Yuri Bishojo Beauty Contest. None of the events was surprising. By the time the three of them returned to their homes, darkness had begun to engulf the world.

Sarakshi was looking forward to a good night's sleep. Fun was exhausting, even if it was... well, fun. She climbed up the stairs and had been about to unlock her apartment door, when she realized something.

The doorknob was dented.

Her eyes widening, she pushed the door. It swung open, creaking as it did so. Inside the place was dark. Prepared to punch someone if she needed to, she switched on the lights, but there was no one there. Things had been moved, though, as if someone had gone through them.

The burglars, she realized.

Just too bad, she thought with a roll of her eyes, that there had been nothing one might want to risk imprisonment for, in the apartment.

She shook her head. Even if nothing had been stolen, she was going to have to report this. She was also going to have to get the door fixed. Brushing bang out of her eyes, she began to pick up the items that had been thrown about, which was when something occurred to her. Blue eyes widening, she pushed open the door of her bedroom and stepped inside. Her breath caught in her throat.

Tora's coat was lying on the bed, rumpled. It had been rummaged through.

Dread locking around her stomach like ice, she picked it up and turned out the pockets.

The wallet was gone.

* * *

><p><em>Eh. This chapter took me foreveeer. I think I re-wrote it four times... AND it kept getting longer and loonger. -_- I think any actual development progress between Tora/ Sarakshi just got moved to the next chapter. XD  
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_The chapter title is, once again, taken from Robert Frost's poem, _Fire and Ice_. And becuase I feel the need to ramble.. I am finally a uni student. Which means lots of homework and new people and straaaange teachers. And less time to write and update stories. =(  
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_MARSBARYUM, MoyaMetalDango13, NerdPop, Farynx99 and ulqui x: Thank you for the feedback. *intends to get back to everyone soonish* 3  
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_Whaaat else? Oh yees. Reviews are nice. And warm and fuzzy and awesome. And stuff. :3  
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	8. the point before Ambivalence

**c h a p t e r e i g h t**

**the point before AMBIVALENCE  
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Sarakshi could not help but be relieved at the news that Daiki Hiroshi was down with a cold: an absent Daiki meant it was one of those rare days when there would be no rehearsal and Sarakshi, who had enough on her mind as it was, was quite sure she could not have borne a whole two hours in close proximity of Tora Igarashi. Not after last night.

She knew she ought to be worried about the burglaries; but the fact was, she couldn't bring herself to be anxious about anything other than the fact that Igarashi's wallet was gone.

_Gone._

Darn it, he was going to have a field day if he found out. He might not have wanted it back before, but he was going to want it back now, if she knew him at all.

"Sarakshi-chan~" Manilla sang, as she tiptoed past Sarakshi, who was standing at the backdoor of Crème Maid's staff area, her hand on the doorknob (where it had been for the past five minutes). "Have you tried the new shortcake~?"

"Chief."

Sarakshi's voice was dead serious. Manilla stopped tiptoeing about, and frowned. "Sarakshi-chan?"

"Can I… draw out my next month's salary in advance?" Hades, it was hard to get those words out. Sarakshi had never enjoyed asking for favours, least of all those that involved any amount – large or small – of money. "Something has come up and…"

"Of course~" Manilla smiled and, not for the first time, Sarakshi was grateful that she had chosen Crème Maid to work at. Manilla never pried into her staff's personal matters, even when she could. "You have an excellent record, Sarakshi-chan, and I trust you."

"You're a life-saver, Manilla-san."

Literally, she added to herself, as she tied on her apron.

-;-

Tora Igarashi was nothing if not efficient, Sarakshi thought with a sour roll of her eyes. She had seen his limo pull up in front of the diner five minutes before it was time for her to leave. The world was dark, darker than usual and, as she waved goodnight to the manager and stepped out of the place, Sarakshi could taste that particular taste of salt-and-mud in the air.

It was going to rain.

Her lips curved into a smile as, tucking her hands into the pockets of her shorts, she breathed in the scent. It was late, and the parking lot was vacant, and the first droplets had begun to fall in the midst of the silence. Brushing back her bangs with her fingers, Sarakshi headed towards her bike, her pace calm and quiet and unhurried as water gathered in small pools on the ground. The bike stood where she had left it, a deep red colour that gleamed in the darkness, and Igarashi was leaning against it, a model of perfection in his ironed suit and gold cufflinks.

"Vixen-san," he greeted her with a smirk.

"Dog-san," she said sweetly.

Something like a grin – though grins were supposed to express merriment. Igarashi's expressed warning and the desire to do very, very sinful things – flashed across his face. "Aren't you entertaining," he said silkily.

"Aren't you humorous," Sarakshi said sourly, dumping his coat into his arms and pushing down an envelope on top of it.

"Is this a love confession?" Tora asked, his voice smooth as he held the envelope up, between two fingers. "How original."

Sarakshi narrowed her eyes. "It's your money, you pervert." Explaining the loss of his wallet - and its contents - was not her idea of a good tale but, as things stood, it wasn't something she could just forget to mention. "Someone broke into my house last night. Your wallet's gone." She paused, crossed her arms and asked, "Were the cards important?"

"Keep it," He said, his voice curt.

Sarakshi's eyes widened. "What?"

He slung the coat over one arm, the action light and elegant and graceful and held out the envelope, which envelope was still gripped between his fore- and middle fingers. "Keep it, Ishin." Then, his voice turning to silk as her eyes narrowed, he leaned in and said, "You did entertain me, that night. There's more where this came from, if you would be interested in… another round."

She'd told herself she would not get furious this time round, and she was _already_ furious. Sarakshi ignored him altogether and swung a leg over her bike. Or at least, she attempted to. He interrupted the movement, twisting her and pinning her down on the bike, her back pressed into the cold metal. It was raining hard, now, and his hair dripped water into his gold eyes. She could see his teeth gleaming in the darkness, his smile wicked. He leaned over her, holding her arms against the bike.

"Igarashi." Her voice was very calm. "Would you care to tell me why we are in this position?"

His smirk broadened. "For my entertainment," he said lazily.

She was done with feeling uncomfortable. Or so, at least, she told herself. It was hard not to, when Tora Igarashi was holding you down against a bike, and water was dripping down his chin, and on to your shirt. She could get out of the pinning technique if push came to shove, but there was the possibility of the bike disbalancing and breaking someone's leg in the process. She'd have been fine if the leg was Igarashi's, but she didn't feel like risking her own. "Does being kneed entertain you?" Sarakshi asked, meeting his gaze.

He leaned down and might have replied if several things had not happened quite, quite fast.

Both of them became aware that there were shadows behind them. Shadows that should not have been there, or anywhere. Sarakshi was able to catch a glimpse of two masked faces before a knife flashed and Tora let go of her, as if he had never held her down, to block the attack. The knife flew out of the first thug's hand and landed on the floor where it sat, glistening in the rain.

Sarakshi jumped to her feet. The other thug, masked and stout, was backing off as Igarashi, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, advanced on him as if he were enjoying the whole thing. The idiot, she thought. The man turned around to run - she moved in on him at the same time as Igarashi did - and things went wrong.

She collided with Igarashi, lost her balance, attempted to grab on to something to regain it, and found there was nothing to grab on to. She hit the side-stand, crashed into the ground, and the bike toppled over.

It almost happened as if in slow motion. There was a split second, just a split second, between the point the bike was standing and the point the bike wasn't and she knew that, in less than a moment, the vehicle was going to fall. On her. She was aware that it was raining like it hadn't rained for centuries. She was aware that the masked man had used the distraction to grab his mate and run.

She was aware that there was no damned way she could move fast enough to avoid being injured.

There was a flash of gold cufflinks as Igarashi shoved her out of the path of the bike in one rough movement, and took the fall for her.

For a moment, time seemed to have paused. Then there was the crunch of metal meeting bone and ground as the bike crashed into his side and the world was still and dead and all wrong. "No –" She rose to her feet in a haze of frustrated disbelief. "Igarashi – Igarashi –"

The bike had fallen at an angle, on one side of him. He pushed it off, the movement rough, and it fell on to its side with a _thud_. He looked up and his gaze met hers. Her eyes were wide and stunned and full of panic and, leaning against the fallen bike, he smirked. "You look worried, Ishin. How cute."

For the first time since she had met him, she had no comeback.

He looked down at his arm, inspecting it as if it were an interesting artifact. Something... hurt like hell. He stretched his arm in an attempt to see if he had broken a bone. It was hard to see much in the dark and rain.

"Let me see." Sarakshi forced herself not to think, not to think of anything at all and knelt down in front of him. She reached for his arm, but his other hand caught her chin.

"My, my, Ishin," he said lazily, tilting her chin upwards. "You're just mad with the desire to touch me, aren't you?"

There was a lump in her throat. She had thought she understood him. Damn it, she had thought she understood him. "Jerk," she said. "_Jerk_."

He rose to his feet, his smile all wicked teeth.

"Save it," she said as he opened his mouth and, for a moment, his eyes widened. "All of it. Go see a doctor." She rose to her feet, turned her back on him, hauled her bike up, caught it handlebars and made to walk it off. His uninjured hand, warm in the cold night, gripped her wrist before she could, however. "What do you want, Igarashi?" she said, through gritted teeth.

"I'll give you a ride."

Her eyes widened. "No," she said, pointblank.

He placed a hand under her chin. "What kind of a thank you is that?" He asked, his eyes lit up with that slow, dangerous amusement that seemed part and parcel of who he was.

"If you hadn't pulled that stunt on me, none of this would have happened!" Sarakshi snapped. "You -"

"You can't walk that bike home, Ishin." His voice was cold.

She opened her mouth to tell him that she could, and realized it was raining cats and dogs and maybe even snails. Her right hand clenched into a fist. What was he up to? There had been no reason, no reason whatsoever, for him to take the fall for her. She felt angered and stunned and exhausted. "Fine," she said, her voice quiet. His smirk was his sole response but, for once, Sarakshi had too much on her mind to want to strangle him for it. She could see lamplight ahead of them, faint and golden and, in its hazy sparkle, his car. "Igarashi." Her voice was cold, colder than usual. "If you attempt to touch me even once during the ride, I will_ kick_ your injured arm."

"I had no idea you were such a sadist, Ishin." He half-turned his face to look at her, and the look in his eyes was all sorts of suggestive. "You give me… ideas."

She came to a stop next to his gleaming car and narrowed her eyes at him. He smirked and, in one fluid movement, hauled the bike into the trunk. Her eyes widened, her expression all shock, but he never gave her a chance to object: the bike had been lowered before she could so much as open her mouth to protest.

"There was no need to do that!" She could feel her heart hammering against her chest, and the taste in her mouth was like shock and anger and the desire to grab his shirt and shake some sense into him. There was a good chance his arm was _broken_. What was he trying to prove? What the hell was he trying to prove? "I could have –"

"Ishin."

She stilled.

"You… entertain me."

She swore and jerked open a door for him. She looked up, waiting for him to get the hell inside, and realized he was looking at her with an expression that was impossible to recognize. "What?" She snapped.

A wicked smile broke across his face. "No girl has opened a car door for me before, Ishin." He pressed her into the side of the car. "I want to know if you... look as much like a man as you act." He hooked a finger in the neckline of her shirt. Her eyes widening and her cheeks flaming scarlet, Sarakshi raised both hands to shove him off, but he had already let go. He climbed into the car and picked up a handset off a hook.

"What is it, Ishin?" He asked, his eyes locking on to hers for one, lingering moment, before he leaned back in his seat and spoke into the handset.

She climbed in and, as the car started, gazed out of a rolled-up, tinted glass window. The seat was warm and soft and comfortable, and she wanted to sink into it and never have to think again. How could someone, anyone, be both harassing and chivalrous? Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile what he did with who he was. She could feel a headache coming on, just attempting to sort it all out. _Don't,_ she reminded herself as the car slowed down. _Don't think about it. _

The limo pulled to a smooth stop and she flew out of the door as if her life depended upon it. Tora watched her, his expression amused and, when he stepped out of the car, she had thrown open the unlocked trunk and was attempting to haul her bike out of it. The wind whipped her red hair around her face and her eyes were shining with something like stubborn resolution.

"Ishin."

She turned around. Tora was standing behind her, one hand in the pocket of his slacks. In the rain, his eyes gleamed like a predator's. "Trying to injure yourself won't get you out of having to... pay me back," he said, tone smooth.

She narrowed her eyes. _"_I _have_ paid you back."

"Oh?" He took a step towards her and she backed against the trunk. "There was more in that wallet than just money, Ishin."

_"_There was nothing important in it," Sarakshi said, her voice neither convinced nor convincing.

"You don't sound too sure of that." He took a step closer, and a droplet of water dripped down his chin, on to her shirt. Then another. Then another. Sarakshi attempted to take a step backwards, realized she was locked between him and the back of his car and raised her chin, her eyes like ice.

_"_We are not." Her voice was cold. "Having this conversation."

"I want payback, Ishin," he said, his eyes glinting, no remorse in them whatsoever.

This was the person who had let a bike fall on him to make sure she wasn't injured... and she wanted to slap him, hard. What was he? Who was he? She'd never seen the world in terms of black and white but even then, it stunned her that someone could be this contradicting. How could the first thing on his mind be a dozen ways to harass her, when his arm was _bleeding_, darn it? He left her stunned and confused and frustrated, and she wanted to grab his shirt and shake him until he apologized for all of it. "You have a serious case of split personalities, Igarashi," she said, voice cool. "I suggest you go see a good psychiatrist."

"You do realize that you can't refund what you lost, don't you?" His uninjured hand came to a rest next to her hand. "I want payback, Ishin."

She raised an eyebrow. "It was a bunch of business cards, Igarashi. You can't fool me into thinking it was anything important."

"- and if you're not going to cooperate," he said as if she had never spoken, his voice low and silken. "I'll just take what you owe me, myself." He leaned in, his face above her shoulder and, the action light but definite, bit her shoulder through the material of her shirt.

Sarakshi's eyes widened. For a moment, she felt like panic and chaos and frustration, all at once. Her arms rose to push him off and he caught them.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" He smirked and, straightening up, he hauled her bike out of the trunk, set it on the ground, turned around and disappeared back into the car as if nothing had happened. She stood there, her eyes wider than they had ever been in her life and then she marched to the car and kicked the door.

_"_You are." She could feel the quiet anger in her voice as she met his gaze through the rolled-down window. "_Vile_."

"And does it shock you that you like that?" His smirk was maddening.

"If you come within a mile's radius of me ever again, Igarashi, so help me I am going to _break all of your bones_," she whispered, whirling around.

His eyes widened. There was something beyond frustration in her words. Hurt? Discomfort?

"Ishin."

There was something in his voice that made her half-turn. He was leaning against the back of his seat, light dancing on his dripping blonde hair as, she looked up, he turned, rolled down the window, took her hand and placed something in it. On impulse, she felt her hand curl around whatever it was.

"You were right. Nothing in that wallet was important," he said, voice cool and before she could so much as open her mouth, he had rolled up the window. The car sprang to life, picked up speed and, within moments, it was gone.

Water dripping down her chin, she looked down at the item her hand was curled around.

It was the envelope she had given him, drenched but unopened.

-;-

"It is not fair!" Daiki Hiroshi shouted, jumping up and down. The little man had thrown at least two tantrums in the past ten minutes and Sarakshi, seated at the edge of the stage in the main auditorium, resisted the urge to throw one of the props at his head. "First I am sick and cannot come to school. Now President Igarashi breaks his arm and cannot come to school." He shook a furious fist at everyone in general. "How am I to direct a play when _everyone cannot come to school?_"

"I feel for him," Sarakshi said to Linda as, picking up their bags, the two of them walked out of the auditorium. Linda had one of those minor roles that are all fun and sparkles and costumes and, even though the blonde was an excellent actress and could have had a major one if she had tried to, she liked it. For, Sarakshi had realized in the past few days, the plain reason that were almost no lines to learn.

Yes. Linda Williams did not like having to memorize things.

"If you ask me, the dude needs a checkup," Linda said. "Sarakshi, I've been meaning to talk to you about something..."

Sarakshi tilted her head to the side, curious. "Go on."

Linda tossed her hair back in an action that was all wicked Linda. "It's about Marjani."

"Why am I not surprised?" Sarakshi asked drily.

"You know me too well," Linda grinned a grin that was worthy of Tora Igarashi. "He's_ hot_."

Sarakshi thought of Marjani, tall and aloof and cultured, and hot was not even the _last_ word that came to her mind. "I'm glad we don't have the same definition of hot," she muttered.

"You need to work on your definition, babe," Linda said. She came to a halt, her hands knotted on top of her head, and gave Sarakshi a frank, frank look. "So, will ya?"

"Will I what?" Sarakshi asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Talk to him, idiot," Linda said. "He's.." she frowned and, for the first time, Sarakshi saw a hint of uncertainty in her expression. "Distant. I doubt he's going to be pleased if I turn up at his house and ask him out and -"

"You would turn up at his house and ask him out, if he weren't distant?" Sarakshi asked, voice incredulous.

Linda gave her a look. "Of course I would." She said, flipping her bangs out of her eyes. "What guy turns a girl like _me_ down?" She had, Sarakshi thought, a point. Linda was all fair skin and sleek blonde hair and wicked, supermodel smiles. Though, for someone who flaunted her assets all the time, Linda was surprisingly picky about people she _actually_ went out with. "But he's different, you know?" Linda gave a fair-shouldered shrug. "Distant. Sort of intimidating. You should talk to him about me. That's what mutual friends are for, after all," she added with a grin.

"Er.." Sarakshi could not, for the life of her, imagine herself going up to Marjani and saying, 'You know my friend Linda? I think you two should hang out.' You did not say things like that to Marjani Suoh. There was just that something about him. Something dark and feral and prowling, that made you want to watch your mouth and step. "I suppose I could give it a shot."

"Knew you'd say yes," Linda grinned, giving her a thumbs-up that made Sarakshi realize that, as far as Linda was concerned, she had just agreed to ensure that Linda and Marjani met again.

Like she didn't have enough on her plate, as it was.

-;-

Sarakshi shut her book, pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. It was no good. She had been seated at the writing desk in her bedroom for the past half hour and, the more she tried to concentrate, the less she could.

She sat down on her bed, pulled a blanket up to her chest and resisted the urge to frown. It's his fault, she reminded herself. His fault, and not hers, that his arm was broken. He'd pinned her down and the thugs had used that as a chance to make their move. If he hadn't had the incurable need to want to prove he was superior, none of it would have happened.

Then she thought of his eyes, of how clear and _simple_ the decision in them had been when he had pushed her out of the path of the falling bike, and she wanted to bang her head against the desk.

It hadn't been something he had needed to think about. It had been like... second nature.

She looked down at her shoulder and, even though there was no actual reminder of what had happened, she could remembered the brush of his teeth against the fabric of her shirt, light and teasing and expert, and her cheeks turned a shade of pink. He had crossed a line there and, as she buried her face into a pillow, her teeth gritted, she realized he had known that. That he was crossing a line. Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned across her mind.

Rising to her feet, she reached for her cellphone.

-;-

Standing next to her bike - which bike had refused to function after it had fallen over several times, last night - Sarakshi punched in the number he had given her for the fifth time. She had entered it four times without connecting the call and that, she told herself as she hit 'dial', was absurd. She had no reason whatsoever to feel that she could not ask him for a favour, for the plain reason that that favour had to do with Tora Igarashi. None at all.

There was the sound of a ring, another ring, and then a voice, a very polished, very deep, very male voice,

"Marjani Suoh."

Sarakshi bit her lip. 'None at all' did not sound like a very convincing phrase, right now. "It's me."

There was a moment of silence. "Sarakshi?"

It was still surprising when he called her that, and not Ishin-san. Surprising, but nice. For whatever reason, it felt right. "Where are you?" she asked, leaning against the bike, a small frown on her face.

There was a pause. Sarakshi had the feeling he was considering answering her question and, that if it had been anyone else who had asked it, might not even have considered it. "Outside the Kasukage dojo," he said, at last. "I'm about to leave. Is something the matter?"

"Can you wait for me?" There was enough space between the Kasukage Dojo and her apartment to fit a sizable village but, if she could catch the next bus, she could be there in fifteen minutes. "I'll meet you there. Fifteen minutes, maximum. If," she added, voice soft. "That's not too much of a bother."

His tone was flat when he said, "Of course," and Sarakshi had the feeling that he could see right through her words. Like he knew. Which, she told herself, was ridiculous. He couldn't.

"Thanks. I owe you one." She disconnected the call, straightened up, and headed outside, jacket slung over a shoulder, to catch the bus.

She saw him, the moment she climbed down the bus. He was standing at the stop, leaning against a wall, and there was a clear circle around him, as if people had skirted away from the place where he was standing. She could see that happening alright, Sarakshi thought with a shake of her head, as she headed up to him.

"Hi," she said softly. "Why are you here?"

"I assumed you'd take the bus." Marjani straightened. The movement was like a big cat stretching, and she tilted her head to one side to look at him. He was wearing a karategi, and his dark hair was windswept, and she could have told he'd been at a dojo even if she hadn't known. It occurred to her that she would not, not in a million years, understand Marjani Suoh. It was like there was a piece of him missing, a link between what he was and who he was; and, until she found that link, he would remain to her what he was now: part shadow, part enigma.

"Don't you know a little too much," she said, but it was a statement and not a question, and he knew it. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans, and looked up at him. "I have a favour to ask for," she said, pointblank. There was, after all, no use beating about the bush. "You can accept or refuse but -" She met his gaze. "I'm _not_ being reckless which means I don't need to be lectured."

"I'll take you," His voice was flat.

Her eyes widened. "What?"

He stepped past her. "I haven't got all day, Sarakshi." His voice was dark but then, she thought, when wasn't it? "There are places I need to be."

She frowned. "You can't read minds, can you?" she asked, arms crossed against her chest, as she followed him outside.

"No."

There was nothing nice, and everything curt, about the response and Sarakshi scowled. "Cut it out!" She said. She stepped in front of him, to block his path. "This is as bad as you lecturing me!" Her voice was defiant, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed against her chest, and his gaze, intense and disorienting, dipped to her face. Sarakshi frowned. "What?" she asked, uncertain all of a sudden.

"Nothing." His voice was deep. "I just haven't had someone block my path in a while."

Her eyes widened in surprise. She supposed he was right. "Figures," she muttered. "You look like a cat. A big one," she added and, for a moment, she saw surprise in his eyes. That, and amusement. There was something she wanted to ask him, even though she knew it was none of her business and that, perhaps, the topic was better left untouched. She touched his forearm, not sure if he would even answer. "Marjani…"

"You should ask and get it over with," he said drily.

Sarakshi's eyes widened. "I don't think I said that out loud," she said.

"You're easy to read, Sarakshi." He took her hand, his own warm over hers for a fraction of a second, and removed it from his forearm. Her eyes widened as she realized she had just left it there but, when she looked up, his face was impassive. "What do you want to ask?"

"How are you and Igarashi related?" She asked quietly.

Something seemed to tighten in his face. For a moment, she thought he wouldn't respond. Walk off. Then he said, his tone flat, "We're cousins."

"You're... cousins." Sarakshi said, one eyebrow raised, quite aware that he _knew_ she'd already known that.

"Is there a problem?" He stepped aside, waited for a response and, when she did not give it, headed for the road. There was a motorbike parked there, dark and gleaming and expensive and by far the most lethal-looking vehicle she had ever seen. He turned around. "I don't have all day, Sarakshi." His voice was cool.

She touched his arm, the action light. "I apologize. It was none of my business."

His gaze rose, from her hand on his forearm to her face. "It's fine." His voice was flat, brisk, impassive. Deep. By far the deepest she had ever heard. There were shadows under his eyes, dark shadows that she had never noticed, and there was something intense about his gaze, intense enough to burn fire, she thought.

"Marjani," a cold voice said.

It was like a spell had been broken. Sarakshi snapped her eyes off him and, her heart hammering against her chest, turned around to see who had spoken. It was a girl, tall and dark-haired and dressed in a blue kimono, her dark brown eyes narrowed at Sarakshi. If looks could have killed, Sarakshi thought, she would have died several times in the past five seconds.

Marjani's gaze locked on to the girl. "Is something the matter, Kurumi?" His voice was so polite, it sounded cold.

"No," Kurumi's voice was very, very sharp. "I'm glad to see.." Her eyes fixed themselves on Sarakshi's hand on Marjani's forearm, and there was something about her gaze that made Sarakshi remove her hand, though she did not step back. "That you're having such a _good_ time." She rose to her full height and then, without a word, turned around and walked off. Sarakshi opened her mouth to speak.. and Marjani swung a leg over his bike and turned to her, as if nothing had happened.

"Shall we go?"

Sarakshi could feel something like disbelief spreading across her feature. She looked up, across the pavement, and she could see Kurumi in the distance, a dot about to disappear out of her line of sight. "Do I have to ask for you to tell?" Sarakshi said, a frown in her voice, as she climbed on to the bike.

"Kurumi Kaishu," Marjani's face was deadpan as the bike sprang to life. There was a pause, and Sarakshi knew what he was going to say, even before he had opened his mouth to say it. "She's my fiancée."

* * *

><p><em><em>Lots of things left unexplained in this chapter, I think. *eyes it* <em>aaand it's 2 AM so blame any spelling mistakes and grammatical errors and such on my state of sleepiness. XD  
><em>

_Ally: I do intend to finish this fic. ^_^ Though, since uni has started, updates are going to be slooower._

_Twillk: Oh lookie, you're back. *waves* :3 I'm glad you like the FF so far. =)_

_Added: I _do_ like love triangles... and squares and pentagons and hexagons. ;P aaand I agree. Usui and Igarashi _are_ on par with each other, even if they have, say, different skill sets. (Though I do like Tora better) XP  
><em>

_MoyaMetalDango13 and MARSBARYUM: Thank you for the reviews. You get virtual cookies. :3  
><em>


	9. we cannot control the Storm

**c h a p t e r n i n e**

** we cannot control the STORM;  
><strong>

* * *

><p>x<p>

He drove with that careful sort of precision that comes to one who knows how to take calculated risks and, as the bike swept past people, vehicles and buildings, Sarakshi had the feeling that, when Marjani drove alone, he drove much faster. The bike came to a halt outside a high-rise apartment building done in black tincture and turquoise glass; and Sarakshi, who had been expecting it to stop in front of a hospital, frowned.

"_This_ is it?" She asked.

"He doesn't like hospitals." Marjani's tone was flat. He stepped past her and, the frown still on her face, she followed him inside and into one of the elevators. "He checked out."

"I see." Sarakshi didn't bother to ask _how_ he could have been allowed to check out. Tora Igarashi was Tora Igarashi and she had a feeling that, even if he had not been the heir to one of the most powerful families in Japan, he could still have convinced the staff to let him do as he pleased. That, or manipulated them into letting him do as he pleased. He did, after all, have that cunning, convincing, confident, good-for-nothing manner of doing what he wanted to do. Scowling at the thought, she looked up at Marjani. "Don't his parents know?"

"I have no idea." Marjani's tone was soft, Saraskhi knew two things, at once: that he was lying; and that he was aware she would know.

"Right," she said. "None of my business."

He didn't respond as he stepped out of the elevator, held open the door for her and, the moment she stepped outside, nodded towards the double doors at the far end of the floor. She turned her face to look up into his, but he had already turned around, all shadow, and she felt her mouth scrunch into a frown. "Thanks," she said, voice soft.

He didn't turn around. "You should get going," he said, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Sometimes, it was impossible to tell if he was pleased, displeased or neither. "I know you have a lot of self-control there, Suoh," she said drily. "But it's probably taken all of it and then some to keep the lecture back. I _am_ grateful. Somewhat," she added, something like mischief in her eyes.

"What are you talking about?" He turned around and, to her surprise, he grinned. It occurred to her that, when he grinned, he seemed like someone else altogether. Real. No longer shadow. More open, less intimidating, just as beautiful. "I'm saving the lecture for tomorrow."

"You're a sly one, Suoh." She grinned back at him. "Thanks for the ride." She heard the sound of his footsteps - growing fainter with each second - as she turned around and was aware that, even as she stepped into the foyer, past the ridiculous miniature fountain and up to the last door, Marjani was gone.

Frowning, she rang the doorbell.

The door swung open and for one, fleeting moment, Tora's eyes widened. Behind him, she saw a glimpse of a couch and a glass table. Then she looked up, into Igarashi's face, and his expression was smooth, a smirk playing around his mouth. He grabbed her arm and, in a whirl of red shirt and black scarf, pinned her against a wall. "Look who it is," he said, his voice soft.

She arched an eyebrow. "Why haven't you.." She looked around the apartment. It was several shades of cream and light green, all gleaming, all gorgeous, all spotless. Modern, westernized, perfect... and surprisingly bare for someone like him. There was a couch, a table, a row of cabinets, and a small TV. Nothing else that she could see. "Gone home, Igarashi?

"Less privacy." Tora's voice was all silk.

"And here I thought world hunger was the biggest issue on the planet," Sarakshi said, under her breath. She raised a hand to remove his arm and, to her surprise and suspicion, he let it drop. She stepped past him and her gaze swept over the room, once again. There were pillows and a blanket on the couch (the former scatted and the latter unfolded, she noticed without having to notice. Being the neat, organized sort of person she was, it was just one of those things that jump out at you in a scene.) She looked up and realized he was smirking. "What?"

"Nothing, Ishin." He closed the door with the softest _thud_ and, turning to her, said, "You do realize that you're... alone with me, don't you?"

She looked up at him. "You do realize that I can tell when you're making an empty threat, don't you?"

His eyes widened, in surprise. Then he took a step towards her, a purposeful step. She raised an eyebrow.. and he backed her into the couch, leaning over her and pressing her back into the silken foam and pillows. She could see the bandages around his arm, gleaming white in the light and, when she looked up into his face, there was a glint of something like wickedness in his eyes.

She locked her gaze with his. "It's never been difficult for you to scare people. But tell me, Igarashi." She motioned with a hand, to the position between the two of them. "When it comes right down to it, how far would you go?"

"You have no idea." His voice was soft. "How far I could go with you, Ishin. Right now. Right here. On this... couch."

"Considering that I can punch the living daylights out of you, you couldn't," she said, voice even. "But even if you could, Igarashi... you wouldn't."

"What makes you sure?" His hand cupped her cheek and there was nothing gentle about the action. Nothing at all. It was rough and curt and like salt. Her cheeks turned pink.

"Why did you save me last night?" she asked, her tone fierce.

He leaned down. "Perhaps I wanted you to owe me," he said, tracing the outline of her lower lip with his finger. "You came here of your own accord, didn't you, Ishin? You want to… repay me."

How could he make something so false, sound so _convincing_? She turned her face away and, for several moments, all she could see was the edge of a pillow and a piece of soft couch. _Save_. She did not like that word. Her eyes flickered to his bandage and her left hand clenched into a fist. Sarakshi Ishin did not like owing people, and owing Tora Igarashi least of all. Darn it, she could take care of herself. There had been no need for him to save her. It was his fault, all of it.

"You're too quiet, Ishin. Remembering... last night?"

She thought of his teeth against the sleeve of her shirt and gritted her teeth. "You're so full of crap, Igarashi," she said. She shoved at his chest, hard, and he stepped back, one eyebrow arched. "You saved me because you wanted to save me, not because you wanted me to owe you."

"While your fantasies are amusing, Ishin -"

"I would rather fantasize about a teapot than you," she snapped. She was aware he looked amused at that... and that made her want to strangle him, more than ever. "You can't admit it, can you? That you would want to save me, just because you _can_ and not because you would gain something from it."

She had, Tora thought, a point... and that irritated the hell out of him. "Your desire to mould me into some sort of hero won't make me one, Ishin," he said, his smirk calculated to madden. "I still think that you need to..." He leaned down and touched the neckline of her shirt. "Get a sexier bra."

Sarakshi refused to let the blush that wanted to spread across her cheeks and neck, spread there. "You can tell yourself it's your idiotic idea of pride -"

"Someone at your level –" His voice was soft and cold and dangerous, and Sarakshi's eyes widened. "Should not even _think_ of trying to understand what pride means to me."

"Why hide it?" She forced down the desire to flinch, the sense of panic, the feeling that she had stepped on forbidden territory. Her voice was growing more heated with each word. "There are things you do because you believe you should, not because you would _gain_ something from them." The cold anger in his eyes, the closest he would ever get to showing discomfort (discomfort was not a word that existed in Tora Igrashi's dictionary, unless it was applied to someone else), and felt a savage sort of satisfaction. "Even if you pretend it isn't so, you will still be someone _who isn't hundred percent rational_. You will still be driven by emotions, at times. You will still adhere to principles that don't always benefit you." Did he take her for an idiot? His attempt to overshadow the fact that he had saved her - her eyes narrowed at the mere thought of the attempt in question. Biting her shoulder, for heaven's sake - had _not_ fooled her. "You will still do things you'll later regret -"

"I _never_ regret." His voice was cold.

"Don't kid me, Igarashi."

There was something fierce, just a little too fierce, in her eyes and, as she spoke, Tora realized she sounded... defensive. Now that, he thought with a smirk, was just up his street. Exploiting weakness _was_ fun. "You don't think..." He leaned down, smirking. "That shouting at me will stop you from being furious at yourself, do you?"

Her first thought was to shove him off but he had already straightened up and walked off. He stood there, facing a window, his back to her, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Sarakshi swallowed the lump in her throat. What was he? How could he be so arrogant, so vile, so wrong, and still know her? It was his fault, all of it... and no matter how many times she told herself that, she knew it wasn't.

"You're right," she said. His eyes widened, but he had his back to her, and she couldn't see his expression. "You're a manipulative jerk and a pervert, Igrashi, but I knew you could have taken care of both those men. If I had let you." She hadn't wanted to admit this but, as she looked at his arm, she realized that, no matter how much of a jerk he was, he deserved the truth. Even if the truth wasn't her cup of tea. "I'm strong. I can take care of myself. I didn't want to be saved. By a manipulative, perverted jerk, of all people," she added drily. "If I hadn't done interfered, those men would have been caught. My bike wouldn't have been damaged. You wouldn't have been injured. I _am_ furious at myself."

Tora turned around and her eyes widened, not in surprise but in total absolute wrath, as she realized he was _smirking_. "I see why you and Marjani get along, Ishin. You have a Hero Complex. He has a Messiah Complex. Lifestyles of the messed-up and not famous."

"You _idiot_," Sarakshi said, stunned. "You smug_ idiot_."

Tora grinned, the action devilish. There was something naïve and fierce and inexperienced about her, that gave him all sorts of ideas. "You're responsible for this, Ishin," he drawled, holding up his arm. "I want… compensation."

"Don't you always," she muttered. She turned away for him and, for a moment, her gaze seemed somewhere between snappish and agitated. Then it fell on the blanket on the floor and, as if she had found a purpose, she bent down and picked it up. "How is your arm?" She asked, folding it up.

Tora resisted the urge to frown. She had moved on from the blanket to a cushion, tilting her head as she inspected its position. There was nothing maternal, and everything curious, about the action. She moved with a certain lightness, a certain rhythm, a certain quiet compulsion. It was as if she didn't like being still for too long, a direct contrast to almost all the women he knew, who could sit still for hours on end, if required. None of them would have picked up his things without permission. It was new and unexpected and _irritating_. Didn't she realize who he was? How could it not occur to her that she should not so much as touch his things, until he permitted her? He wanted to push her back against a wall, and see her go still again.

"It seems it wasn't broken, until I hauled your bike into the trunk," he said.

She looked up. "If you're trying to guilt me, it isn't working," she said drily.

"When I guilt you, Ishin," His voice was deep. "Believe me, you won't stand a chance."

"Don't you just love to dream," she said, her voice sour. She snapped over her bag and turned it over, right over the couch. Something fell out, and it was a second before Tora realized it was his coat, folded into a neat pile. "I came to return this," she said. "... and even though it was your fault that anything happened in the first place, to apologize." She met his gaze, as if daring him to say a single, amused word and, when didn't, just smirked in that all maddening, all wicked, all sinful manner of his, she realized that the smirk irritated her more than any number of words... and did he ever know it. Narrowing her eyes, she turned around in a whirl of red hair and wrenched open the door. "You could have taken care of those guys," she snapped. "I shouldn't have interfered." She paused as if considering her next words and then, her voice lofty, said,

"I'd thank you but, since we've already established it was all _your_ fault in the first place, I don't think I will."

The door closed behind her with a gentle chink, and Tora couldn't decide if he was amused, surprised or both.

-;-

It was idiotic to feel lighter after having admitted part of it was her fault but, wonder of wonders, she did feel lighter. Sarakshi walked down the corridor, past a row of polished doors, turned the corner, and stopped short in her tracks. Marjani was standing there, leaning against the wall, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

"I thought you left," she said, one eyebrow raised.

"Do you think I would have left you alone with him?" Marjani's voice was cool. "I brought you here. You were my responsibility."

Sarakshi crossed her arms against her chest. They were not having this conversation, now or ever again. Oh no, they weren't. "Let's get this clear, Marjani Suoh. I can –"

"Take care of yourself, I know." He cut her short, his voice curt, and her eyes widened. "Let's go."

She looked up at him and, not for the first time, wished she could read his eyes. "I'm not the Damsel in Distress kind," she said, arms folded. "I can't be and I don't want to be, alright?"

There was something like defiance in her eyes. That, and a total lack of fear. Something, Marjani thought, he had not observed in anyone who did not know him well, in a long, long time. "Perhaps you need to work on your definition of damsel in distress."

"I do not," she muttered. But, as she climbed on to the bike behind Marjani, she thought of Igarashi's broken arm and realized that, at times, there are things more important than what you want and prefer. Hero Complex, she thought with something of a frown. She had never thought there was anything wrong in wanting to be her own hero but, it occurred to her now and for the first time, perhaps she had taken her need to make sure _she_ was the one who took care of herself, to an extreme. Was she, she thought as the bike sprang to life, doing what she had done last night, all over again?

"You do realize," Marjani's deep voice broke through her thoughts. "That it's disturbing when you're quiet for more than fifteen seconds?"

Sarakshi leaned forward. "Why do you have that scar?"

He swerved with such suddenness, she had to grab the back of his shirt to make sure she didn't get thrown off the bike. "It was a hunting accident," he said, his voice clipped."You alright?"

"Yeah..." She frowned. "Do I pry too much?"

"Do you need me to confirm that?"

Her lips curved into a smile. "You've stopped speaking too little," she said, as he slowed down the bike.

"You haven't stopped talking too much," he said drily.

"I know," she frowned. She could feel the wind knocking against her helmet, sometimes gentle, sometimes not and she realized that, even if there are times when it's alright to be saved, there are_ never_ times when it's alright to owe... Tora Igarashi. It was no longer about what he termed "payback." It was about returning the favour, before he decided he wanted it returned. Because when Igarashi decided he wanted a favour returned, nothing good was likely to come out of it for the person who had to return it. "Why hasn't Igarashi told his parents about his arm?"

"Maybe they don't get along."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe -" His voice had a dangerous edge to it, an edge that made Sarakshi realize that he was still Marjani Suoh, the young man she had first seen in the shadows in the Makoto dojo. The young man who had made her consider staying out of his range of sight and hearing. The young man who could make _Linda Williams_ uncertain. "- it's none of your business."

Her eyes widened and she glanced up. He was staring right ahead, at the road, and his grip on both handlebars was calm, cool, casual. But she sensed tension in the air, a dark sort of tension, and realized something: Marjani and Tora might not like each other but, underneath the hostility, there was respect; a grudging respect perhaps, but a respect that ran deeper than she had ever thought it could. No one would, she realized, ever gain one's secrets from the other.

"Maybe it isn't," she said, voice soft, as the bike came to a halt. She swung down from it, her bag slung over a shoulder. "Would you like to come inside?" She asked, as she took off the helmet and secured it under an arm.

How could she ask that question as if it were the most normal thing in the world? He looked down at her, and Sarakshi registered surprise, faint but definite, in his gaze. "No," he said, voice soft.

She was standing next to the bike, the helmet under one arm, and her hair had come lose, falling down her back in a rumpled, scarlet tangle. She had large blue eyes, and there was a smudge of darkness underneath them, like bruised shadows, and his hand cupped her cheek. His hand was rough, but the action was gentle.

"Marjani?" Her voice was uncertain.

He leaned down and kissed her, just a brush of his lips against hers. Her eyes widened... and that was the last thing he saw before he removed his hand from her cheek, kicked the bike into action, and left.

-;-

"So you decided to show up." Mr. Igarashi's voice was hard as steel.

Tora tucked his uninjured hand into his left pocket. He hadn't been expecting his father to be prowling about the house, this late at night. Until, of course, he had switched on the lights in the lounge, only to see his father standing across him, the man's glare murderous. "Good evening, father," he said, aware that it had last been evening some seven hours ago.

Genkei Igarashi's eyes went to his arm. "What's wrong with your arm?" His voice was cool. Tora had taken that from him: the angrier either of them became, the colder and calmer their tones did.

Tora looked down at his arm. "This?" He asked, his voice slow and calculated to madden. "It broke."

"Do you have any idea," Genkei's tone was harsh. "How worried your mother and I have been?"

"Oh?" Tora raised an eyebrow. The man was such an excellent liar, anyone but Tora would have believed, quite at once, that he had been worried. Half to death. "There was no reason to be worried, father. Both of you knew where I was." The sole reason his father had not contacted him, Tora knew, was that he must have thought the unchecked freedom might make Tora more... sympathetic to his cause. If wanting your son to have designs on Marjani Suoh's fiancée could even be called a cause.

"That arm is more than enough reason for your mother." Genkei's voice was so cold, it was a wonder everything in the vicinity hadn't frozen over several times, yet. "Do you realize what you put her through?"

"Neither of you knew about my arm," Tora said, flatly.

Genkei's eyes narrowed to slits. He was an elegant man, a cool-headed planner and a dangerous foe and, when Tora had been a child, that slit-eyed look had been cause for fear. Now he just met his father's gaze, his own calm and even. "Do you think we don't hear?" Genkei's words were curt. "Suoh's son told us."

There was a moment of dead, dead, dead silence, as if the earth had cracked open, and the shock of the catastrophe had rendered the entire planet speechless. Then Tora said, his voice very, very cold,

"Marjani wouldn't do that."

Rage flashed in Genkei's eyes. "He would cut your throat open, if he had the chance," he said and, for the first time since Tora had stepped into the house, he registered actual hatred in his father's voice. "He would betray your confidence, again and again –"

"There's just the little problem that he doesn't have my confidence," Tora said, voice cool.

"He does not have your hatred either!" Tora could tell the sarcasm had miffed his father because the man had raised his voice for the first time since he had begun to speak. Even though he had only raised it a notch, the change was noticeable, very noticeable, because Genkei Igarashi was a man who did not often raise his voice. Not even by a few degrees.

"As long as he stays out of my way," Tora's voice was calm. "I will stay out of his."

Genkei's eyes narrowed again. "You will regret it, one day. He is not part of who we are. He is inferior. He is nothing but a low-lying –"

Tora locked his eyes with his father's furious gaze. "He is your son," he said, his voice very calm.

It was like a volcano had erupted in the middle of the house.

There was a crash, a resounding crash, as Genkei smashed his fist into a glass vase. "Do not associate me with that boy!" He said, his voice low and dripping with rage.

"You wouldn't be this angry if you could bring yourself to deny it." Tora's voice was even calmer, now. Perhaps it was the pent-up rage at his father's actions - both old and recent - that made him want to throw the cold, hard facts in Genkei's face. "You can't convince yourself that he isn't a part of you, so you want to convince yourself that you hate him, instead." He smirked. "What do they say about sins of the father? You seem to have taken it to heart."

Genkei was shaking with rage. "Get out. Get out, and don't ever come back."

Tora's eyes were hard. "With pleasure."

* * *

><p><em>a HUUUGE thank you to everyone who left reviews. MARSBARYUM, MoyaMetalDango13, NerdPop, Twillk (the 'So much for Linda =P' bit made me laugh out loud. I'm evil, I know xP) and schnook.. thank youu. =3<em>

_Ally: Nooo. Please dooon't explode in confetti pieces. XD I glad you still like. :3  
><em>

_Sweetie-chan33: I have written M-rated stuff in the past (I don't think I did such a good job but yeaah.. :|) but this is going to be T-rated, at least for now. My characters seem to write themselves and I sort of can't make them doo what I want them to do. If that makes sense. XD So I can't say if this will finish as a T-rated FF but for noow, I can't see it as M-rated. ^_^_

_ulqui x: I think you just got the answer you were looking for. O_o_


	10. it is made for the Rain

**c h a p t e r t e n**

**it is made for the RAIN.**

* * *

><p>x<p>

The street was alive with the kind of uncoordinated bustle no top-notch street ever saw, and Tora raised an eyebrow as a gleaming car pulled into a lane, not too far off. Interesting. He knew who that car belonged to... and there was no reason for a businessman as rich as that car's owner to visit a commonplace street in a commonplace part of the city.

No sooner had the thought occurred than he realized that he, an Igarashi, was dawdling in the same spot.

Someone who had just been told he was no longer welcome in his own house, however, had good reason to want to frequent places he wouldn't be recognized in, he thought drily. He'd walked past a range of shops, most of which he would not have ever walked past under normal circumstances and, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he stepped up to the street the car had pulled into (whatever the circumstances, he was still Tora Igarashi. Gathering information that could prove a good basis for manipulation, was second nature to him) ... and smirked.

The street sported a number of cafès. The sign in front of the nearest building read, **Crème Maid**. Stuck beneath it, in bold splashes of colour, was a smaller sign that announced, Bleach Promotional Event.

It took him less than half a second to make his decision.

He stepped in.

"Welcome, goshujin –" Sarakshi stopped, her eyes round. "Igarashi?"

"Matsumoto wouldn't be pleased to see you cosplaying her," Tora smirked. She was wearing a shinigami uniform, complete with a lieutenant's badge and a soft pink scarf; but, unlike Matsumoto, the front of her uniform was buttoned, showing no cleavage whatsoever. "She has more to show... here." His eyes fell on the pendant of the golden necklace that ran around her neck.

Sarakshi's cheeks turned pink. Manilla had been convinced she, Sarakshi, would make the perfect Rangiku and, once Manilla decided she'd just had an excellent idea, it was hard to convince the manager otherwise. The uniform, made for someone who wanted to flaunt their assets, was a bother. The neckline kept slipping when she moved and, after half an hour of making sure she didn't move too much or too fast, Sarakshi felt stiff and unnatural: it was like attempting to walk on a paper-thin layer of ice, in spiked-heel boots.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

"Is that how you treat your customers?" Tora smirked.

Her eyes widened as she realized that, whatever else he may be, he was, at the moment, a customer. "I apologize," she said, not sounding apologetic at all. "Welcome... _goshujin-sama_." There was a wicked glint in his eyes that made it clear he enjoyed having her call him that and, as he sat down, the action graceful, Sarakshi resisted the urge to glare at him. Frowning, she turned around.. and was surprised to find that the few female customers in the cafè were staring at her. She looked down at her uniform, wondering if she had spilled something on it... and realized that none of them was looking at her.

They were looking _past_ her.

Tora leaned forward to pick up the menu she had placed on the table. How he could make something as simple as that seem suggestive, she had no idea, but that single movement was all it took to cause several of the ladies to flip back their hair. Checking the urge to mutter various dark things under her breath, Sarakshi swept past them, into the staff's area. She could see him through the half open door, his manner calm and collected as he inspected the menu, and it occurred to her that, no matter how natural his actions seemed, visiting a maid cafè was a little extreme, even for an Igarashi bent upon making her life difficult.

_What on earth is he up to, this time around,_ she thought as, having set down a plate of rice on a table, she turned around.

"My coffee." Tora said, as she passed his table. "Stir it."

Stir it. Not will you please stir it, but stir it. Her eyes narrowed, she half-turned to meet his gaze. He waved a hand towards the creamer, the action as authoritative as it was indicative. "The cream," he said, his voice cool. "Or do I have to wait all day?"

"Of course not, _goshujin-sama_." Sarakshi donned a smile that was anything but sweet and, as she bent down to pick up the creamer, lowered her voice and hissed, "What are you playing at, this time?"

"Did you say something, Sara-chan?"

His voice was unnecessarily loud. Sarakshi was aware the females in the café were staring daggers at her, and was tempted to dump the cream on his head. "You must be hearing things -" she said, her voice cool. "_Tora-chan_."

He grinned, his usual devilish grin, and his gaze dropped from her face. To the table? There was something like wicked amusement in his eyes and, as she stood there, her eyes narrowed, his expression irked her. More so than usual because she couldn't tell _what_ he was so amused about. Then he spoke, his voice low so that she alone heard his words.

"I like the colour of your bra, Ishin. Red. How sexy."

The creamer she had been holding dropped from her hand and on to the floor. There was a collective intake of gasps around the café and, for one maddening moment, Sarakshi was too stunned and embarrassed and furious to care. "You j -" she began.

"Sarakshi-chan!" Manilla rushed to their table, her large eyes full of surprise and concern (Sarakshi was one of those careful, cautious people that _never_ drop things) and, later, Sarakshi - who would otherwise have slammed Igarashi into a wall and _punched_ him in the stomach - would be glad Manilla had done so. "Both of you - are you alright - Igarashi-san -"

"I am. Thank you for the concern, mademoiselle." Tora rose to his feet, all courteous perfection. "I do believe I will take my leave, now." He paid and, the picture of a dignified gentleman, walked up to the door and stepped outside. The eyes of the entire restaurant followed him and, when the door closed with the softest _thud_, snapped on to Sarakshi.

Sarakshi ignored the attention, turned to Manilla, and gave the manager a weak smile. "I'm sorry, Manilla-san," she said, her voice quiet. "I'll pick this up."

"It's fine." Manilla's smile was genuine. "We all make mistakes now and then, Sarakshi-chan."

-;-

Tora folded his hands behind his head, his deep gold eyes gazing upwards at the underside of the tree that. He had thought nonrecognition would be an advantage but he'd been plagued by a dozen or so women, some older than him, in the past two hours. Playing disinterested seemed to fuel their desire to talk to him and, while he supposed he could have chosen a better place to escape to than a downtrodden commoners' park, he couldn't say he regretted the decision.

He _never_ regretted.

The place was vacant now. Not that it had ever filled, in the first place. The first drop of rain fell and, lazily, Tora raised his arm and glanced at his wristwatch. Quarter past midnight. He supposed he should go home. For what it was worth, he knew that he _could_ go home. But, even though getting a rise out of Genkei Igarashi was a challenge he enjoyed, Genkei Igarashi was the last person he wanted to talk to, right now. _Even if you pretend it isn't so, you will still be someone who isn't hundred percent rational. You will still be driven by emotions, at times. You will still adhere to principles that don't always benefit you._

Wasn't she an annoying, little thing.

He thought of her expression - both stunned and furious - before she'd lost her grip on the creamer and decided that it had been worth walking into a place such as Creme Maid.

-;-

With the arrival of autumn, the weather had become colder; and, as the wind picked up and sheets of rain came falling down, Sarakshi pulled her jacket closer to herself. If her bike had still been functioning, the ride back home would have been exhilarating. Things being what things were, however - dark and past-midnight and full of rain - the best she could do was to be glad of the gorgeous scent of wet mud that swathed the air.

Her shoes thudded against wet ground as she half-ran through the lamplight. She'd reached the old park round one of the corners, and had been about to jump over a puddle of dark water, when an unexpected flicker of movement caught her eye. She skidded to a halt and turned around... and realized that someone was taking up the chipped old bench in the distance. Someone stretched out lazily, like a cat, water dripping down his clothes.

Even at this distance, she couldn't have mistaken the figure for anyone but Igarashi.

The wise thing to do, of course, would have been to turn around and continue on her way. It goes without saying, however, that Sarakshi couldn't remember the last time she had done the wise thing.

"Igarashi?"

Tora looked up… right into a pair of semi-surprised, semi-curious blue eyes. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. "You can't get enough of me, can you?" He said, his manner nonchalant, as if dripping girls walked up to a dripping him in the middle of the night, every second day or so.

Sarakshi frowned. His arm was still bandaged - the bandage useless in the state it was in, at the moment - and his hair was windswept. He made no move to sit up, let alone rise to his feet, inspecting her as if she were something rare. "What are you doing here?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Contemplating the best way to take you," Tora said lazily.

"Were you born this perverted, or did it come with practice?" Sarakshi asked sweetly.

He rose to his feet and, in one swift movement, placed a hand next to her head, on the treetrunk. His figure blocked out what little light did reach the secluded spot beneath the treetop and, for a moment, Sarakshi faltered. "With practice," he said, looking down at her, his voice all silk.

"Why are you here?" She asked, voice clipped.

"What's the matter, Ishin?" He caught her chin, turning her face towards himself. "Don't tell me you're…" His lips were inches away from hers. "Scared, after all."

"Don't be ridiculous." She met his gaze, her eyes cool. "You shouldn't be outside, Igarashi. Have you looked at the state of your arm?"

"You're worried." His smile was wicked. "Isn't that adorable."

She looked up at him. His eyes were lit up with amusement. It was hard to tell how much of that he was faking but, bets were, all of it. It wasn't like Igarashi to have a single crease in what he wore, let alone several. Not like him at all to let himself get drenched to the bone at half past midnight, in a commoners' park. "Did you…" She frowned. "Have a fight?" He didn't have any siblings that she was aware of... "With your parents?"

His eyes narrowed. "You're talking more nonsense than usual," he said softly. He reached out a hand, to cup her cheek. She caught his hand before he could.

"That doesn't distract me, Igarashi," she said, voice cool. There were shadows under his eyes, shadows you couldn't see until you looked. He looked not alive and too alive, washed out almost, and Sarakshi almost shuddered. He arched an eyebrow, a questioning one, and she looked up into his face. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

He'd seen her all shades of furious, embarrassed and defensive. She was something altogether different, now. Serious, he realized with faint surprise. "I have a feeling I should be the one asking you that," he drawled.

Sometimes, leaping first and looking later, feels like the right thing to do.

"Come on," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"What are you planning to do, spend the night here?" She met his gaze with a pair of almost fierce and more-than-serious eyes. "I'll let you spend the night at my place."

He could see the decision, crystal clear and without room for doubt, in her eyes... and that irritated him. How naive could she be? He wanted to lock her into place and make her admit there were all sorts of things that could go wrong with her foolish idea. That she was too sure of herself. Instead, he schooled his expression into a smirk. "Did you hit your head on the way back?" He asked lazily.

"I frankly don't care if your parents kicked you out, or if you kicked yourself out." She stepped around him. There was nothing unsure, and everything calm, about the movement. "You can stay the night, Igarashi."

"Do you want me, Ishin?" He asked, his voice amused.

She scowled. "Don't you just love to dream."

"Do you realize what you're doing?" He turned her around to face him. His gaze was intense and cold and almost full of rage, and her breath seemed to get stuck somewhere in her throat. She was aware of him, towering over her - the scent of the mud and rain and air - the water dripping through the leaves and into her hair - every minute detail. "_You're inviting me into your house, woman_."

"Let's clear up a few basic things here, Igarashi." Her voice was clear. "I'm not 'inviting' you into my house. I'm letting you _know_ that you can spend the night."

"I could do _anything_ I wanted to you."

"That," she said, voice cool. "Is the last thing I'm concerned about. In case you haven't noticed, I'm _quite_ capable of taking care of myself."

Conclusion had never meant anything but maneuvering, for Tora. People did not come to their own conclusions. They came, without exception, to the conclusion he maneuvered them into. There was something like conclusion in her eyes, though, a conclusion all of her own and he dropped his gaze to her face with half a smirk. "How interesting," he said. "You want me."

"No." She wanted to tell him he was an idiot because he was so black and so white and so gray, she could never decide if he was good or bad or neither.. just manipulative enough to make manipulation another basic word like right and wrong. Her gaze fell from his face to his arm, the one that she had yet to heal... and she knew, all at once, that he had no plan to accept her offer. "I owe you."

There was no fierceness in her voice, just calm. How could she look this peaceful, at a time like this? He placed a hand under her chin and, the action soft, lifted it. "You have no sense of self-preservation."

"I know," she said, a small frown crossing her face. "Sometimes, I'm glad I don't." She paused. "You're not going to come, are you?"

It was more of a statement and less of a question and, for once, Tora was surprised. He had assumed she'd expect him to agree. How on earth could she have known he wouldn't? "Of course I am," he said, voice smooth. "I like the idea of the two of us in your house, Ishin. Alone," he added, his voice a caress.

He registered surprise in her eyes but, when she spoke, her voice was flat. "I'm sure you do," she said, unamused. She looked down at her hands, frowning, aware that she was so certain he wouldn't even attempt to take advantage of her, that it was ridiculous. She had a feeling she was standing at the edge of a cliff... and she might have taken a step forward, instead of backwards.

But sometimes, life isn't about what you want or don't want. Sometimes, it's just about the right thing to do.

And Tora, as he saw that decision form in her eyes, reflected that she was naiver than he had thought she was, if she believed he wouldn't take advantage of her, if he felt like it.

-;-

Sarakshi turned the key in the lock and, as the door clicked open, turned around, one eyebrow arched. Tora came up behind her, his pace both infuriatingly slow and infuriatingly lazy, his hands tucked in the pockets of his slacks.

"You are.." She said, eyes narrowed. "Infuriating."

"I understand your sexual frusrtation," he drawled. "I _am_ stunning."

She looked at him, astounded. "Yes, Igarashi, I do believe I'm _stunned_," she snapped.

He smirked. "We had better alleviate all that pent-up frustration, hadn't we now?" he said, resting a warm arm around her shoulders.

She glared at him and, when he made no move whatsoever to remove his arm, shrugged it off, pushed open the door, stepped inside, and switched on the lights. Illumination flooded the lounge. She was aware of Igarashi's form behind her, filling up the doorway. How did he do that, anyway? Take up more of the doorway than she ever would?

"This is _it_?" he asked.

"Not everyone falls in the rich, perverted, psycho category," she pointed out, voice oh-so-sweet.

His eyes swept across the apartment. There was a bedroom, a lounge, and a kitchen. That was it. He'd known she was poor, but how anyone could live with and on so little, stunned him. He looked around again, this time noticing the finer details, and realizing why he didn't feel disgusted, as he'd expected to. The place was… nice. Clean. Neat. It smelled of lavenders, a faint, lingering, beautiful scent.

"I like the scent, Ishin." He grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her to him. "Very sexy."

Her cheeks flamed. "You're supposed to be thankful, you pervert."

"For what?" Her blush, an almost nervous one, satisfied him. He held up his injured arm with a smirk. "You owe me, don't you?"

"I _owed_ you," she corrected. She could feel his fingers, warm and rough, clenched around the fistful of her shirt, and her cheeks turned pinker, if that were even possible. "Let go of me, Igarashi." His hold tightened in response and, realizing that that was just the reaction he had wanted, she narrowed her eyes. "Your tactics," she said, voice cold. ".. are beginning to get boring."

"It amuses me how nervous I make you."

She placed a hand over his to remove it and, eyes narrowed, turned her back on him. The truth was...

There was something just a little too nervous - and that, he knew, was unlike her - about her. "Don't tell me," he drawled. "You've never been alone with someone of the opposite gender."

"Of course I have, you idiot," she snapped.

"I have a feeling our definitions of alone are quite different," he said, with a devilish grin.

How much more of an idiot could she have been? She'd known it was too much to expect him to be grateful but, even then, she had thought he would behave. She dumped her jacket on the table and, deciding the best course of action was to pretend he wasn't there, left the room in a whirl of huffiness.

-;-

He was seated on the couch, his hands folded behind his head and his feet placed on the table with no sense of decorum whatsoever and Sarakshi, as she stepped back into the lounge, scowled.

"You're dripping water on my couch, Igarashi."

She must have showered. Her hair was hanging down in loose, scarlet coils and there were damp patches on the flowing, sleeveless shirt she wore. She was clutching a towel, a frown on her face. There were things Tora Igarashi was and womanizing was, perhaps, the second. He raised his eyes from her chest to her face, his expression amused. "Would you rather I drip water on you, Ishin?"

"Normal people..." Her voice was incredulous. "Would be grateful for being given shelter for the night."

"You can't be naive enough to have thought I was in need of that." His tone was disdainful.

She considered him, all gold eyes and sculpted figure and infuriating smirks, and realized that he _wasn't_ here because he needed a place to be. He was here because the prospect interested him. "I don't know why I'm stunned each time I realize you have no redeeming quali -"

"Change my bandage," he drawled, cutting her sentence short as if it was of no importance whatsoever. His voice was authoritative, the voice of someone used to commanding and being obeyed. "Now that I'm here, you might as well make yourself useful."

Her eyes widened, in surprise and disbelief and infuriation. "You are not right in the head," she said, voice decisive. "You are... not right in the head." She threw the towel at him and walked out of the room.

-;-

There might have been some truth in those words, Tora thought drily, as he emerged from the shower. There had to be something wrong with him, if he hadn't kissed her senseless yet.

The lounge was vacant. Of her, at least. She had to be in the kitchen, if the scents wafting about the place were any proof. It amused him that, whatever her reaction might or might not have been, she had left bandages on the table. He smirked down at them and then, rising to his full height, walked into the kitchen.

Sarakshi bent down to pick up a plate, saw him there... and frowned. "What are you doing here?" She asked, not without suspicion.

"Seeing you in an apron turns me on," he said smoothly. "It brings up... certain reminders."

That darned shinigami uniform. Pink-cheeked, she grabbed the nearest vegetable with a little too much force. It ended up squashed and, aware that his eyes were all wicked laughter, she refused to look at him as she dropped the thing on to the counter with a frown, swept past him to pick up a knife, and began to slice the veggie.

There was something fluid and unforced about her movements and, for a few minutes, Tora could not put his finger on why that irked him as much as it did. Then he realized the reason. It was the confidence, the cheerfulness, the lightness. She moved like a gazelle, light and graceful, as if she knew, was sure of and enjoyed what she was doing. He narrowed his eyes. She was just another commoner. She had to labour to survive. Pull in all-nighters to ensure she could attend a good school. What on earth did she have to be so content about?

Content to the point that it was… peaceful to watch her.

"Do you like garlic?" she asked, looking up from the counter. Her hair was held back with a multi-coloured headband, though a few bangs had escaped it to frame her face. "You'd better tell me now, because if you complain later, I'm not going to -"

"I like kissing," he said, feeling the need to get a rise out of her.

The knife slipped out of her hand and met the counter with a clattering noise. "Cut it out," she snapped but, as she turned her back on him with a furious, decisive air, he was aware that her cheeks had flushed a bright red. He heard her mutter something like idiot under her breath and, walking up to her, he lowered his mouth to her ear.

"You seem flustered, Ishin."

She ignored him with an almost fierce sense of decision and, her mood snappish, stabbed a piece of chicken with a fork. Which prompted him to do the one thing he was certain would make her snap her attention on to him. He leaned down, and closed his hand over hers.

"What do you think you're _doing_?"

"I'm hungry, Ishin." He raised her hand, the one that held the fork, to his mouth and, bending his head, bit a piece of the chicken off the fork. "That..." He looked down at her. Her eyes were wide, her hand still curled around the fork and fitting into his, and the fierce blush had returned. "Was delicious."

"What do you get from making my life miserable, Igarashi?" She snapped.

"Entertainment," he said silkily.

"You are -"

"Has it ever occurred to you that you are still nothing but a common woman? Nothing, for me, but -" He bent down and bit into the piece of chicken that was left. "Entertainment?"

"That's quite a load of over-confident crap." Her voice was fierce and her eyes blazing. It was so simple, he thought, to get her worked up. He liked her worked up. It was different. Refreshing. Desirable. "For someone who was wandering around town in the middle of the night, like a rebellious, angst-ridden teenager." She threw the fork into the sink. "You know what, Igarashi? You can leave. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I'm beginning to realize the right thing _never_ applies to you. Because, in the end, you'll always be a -"

"You're ranting now, Ishin." His voice, like his smirk, was unruffled and maddening. "Do you want me to kiss you into silence?"

Talking to him was, she realized, useless. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she decided that he wasn't there. She could cook in peace, then. Enjoy doing it.

Tora had other plans in mind.

"What are we having." His arm went around her shoulders with all the ease of someone who had known her forever, and had every right to place an arm around her. "For dinner tonight?"

"Crêpes," she said, teeth gritted. "And there will be no 'we,' Igarashi, if you do not back off, right now."

"You don't intend to put this.." He leaned forward, aware that the interference her in method of cooking made her snappish, and picked a piece of asparagus between a finger and a thumb. "In them, do you, Ishin? Because I find asparagus boring. Now strawberries. Those might be... a different matter."

"I will put _whatever_ I want into what I'm making," she said, voice dangerous. She concentrated on the vegetables in front of her, her movements quick and fierce and snappish. There was a small frown on her face and it was several moments before he realized why it was there: she'd pushed aside the asparaguses, picked a giant artichoke, and was now chopping the top off.

"Good girl," he drawled.

She looked up, one eyebrow raised. "That.. should not sound as evil as it does," she said drily.

Something like a grin quirked the corners of his mouth. "So tell me." He picked up a slice of tomato and, ignoring her glare, bit into it. "Why would an intelligent girl like you -" The adjective was accompanied with touch of sarcasm - "Choose to work at Crème Maid?"

"I wanted to."

Tora raised a disdainful eyebrow. "You wanted to work at a _maid_ café?"

"Crème Maid," she corrected. "The place is neat, the staff's nice, and the customers are courteous." She picked up a spoon, and dipped it into the bowl of sour cream. "Their focus is cosplaying. I get to laugh and beat others at cards and dress up. It's fun. I enjoy it."

There was nothing bitter whatsoever about her words. She was cheerful again, in fact. Light and sure and like a breeze. He felt irked anew, that irkness that was becoming so familiar.

"Does this taste alright?" Tone cheerful, she held the spoon, brimming with sour cream, up to his mouth. There was a moment of silence, in which she looked up at him, her eyes expectant; he looked down at her, something like surprise in his gaze.. and Sarakshi realized _who_ she was talking to. "I.." She took a step backwards, cheeks flushing pink. "It..."

His hand curled around hers, raising the spoon to his lips. He felt the cream wash over his mouth. Not too sour. Stronger than he had expected. Just right. "Too much vinegar," he drawled, his manner unruffled, letting go of her hand.

"I.." She grabbed the beater, realized she didn't need to use it, and dropped it. She cleared her throat. "I see," she said, her voice returning to normal. "I'll just... fix it." She muttered something under her breath, did something or the other to the cream and, turning around, shoved the bowl at him. "Go ahead. Set it on the table."

She sounded irritated and, aware that she wanted him to leave, Tora placed the bowl on the counter, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. "I'd rather eat here, Ishin," he said, voice low. "In the kitchen."

"Don't use that.. stupid. Low. Voice." She did the one thing he had never expected she would and stuck the fork into his uninjured arm. He felt a light prick of pain and, both surprised and amused, placed his lips next to her ear.

"Trust me, Ishin, you don't want to do that again."

Her hand paused, mid-action. "I don't like you," she frowned.

"I like the idea of you in a swimsuit," he said smoothly.

She scowled. She'd have liked to stick the fork into his arm again. She had a feeling it would be a bad idea, however, and resisted the temptation. It was well past midnight, she had assignments to turn in tomorrow, and she was exhausted. She wished the world would cease to exist, for a moment or a week or a month. He felt the change in her, and his eyes narrowed. If she couldn't take it, what on earth was she attempting to prove by trying this hard?

"Why did you move out?" He asked, his voice cool.

"Move out?" She was still resting the teeth of the fork against his arm, as if weighing the pros and cons of pressing it into it. If she was stupid enough to do that again, he thought with half a smirk, he was going to make sure she apologized. In whatever way he wanted her to apologize.

"You don't live with your parents anymore," he said, tone still disdainful.

"Oh." She frowned, a small sort of frown. "I didn't move out. My mother died when I was a kid. My father died last year." You would have thought, Tora thought, that she would sound bitter. She didn't. She sounded matter-of-fact.

"You're telling me." His words were cool. "That your family refused to help you out?"

"Mum came from a poor family." There was a touch of cheerfulness in her voice, as if she enjoyed talking about her mother, that irritated him. "Dad's family disowned him when he married her. Mum's parents and sister both offered to take me in. I couldn't do that to them, though." She frowned a little. "None of them are rich."

"Your father's family name."

She looked up, surprised. "What?"

"You don't use your father's family name." He stepped back from her, his words so sure - a statement, and not a question - that she knew a denial would do no good. "What is it?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't think I'm naive enough to tell you that, do you?"

"You would protect a family that caused your parents nothing but trouble?" He smirked. "I wouldn't have expected anything else from you, _commoner._"

"Don't act as if you understand." Her voice, to his surprise, was cold. "My father was who he was, because of the people who raised him. And my father was a brilliant man. It wasn't his family's responsibility to provide for his wife and children." She stepped back, the picture of displeasure. "If you think I would give someone a chance to exploit the people he loved, you're more than mistaken, Igarashi."

"You think I couldn't find out, if I wanted to?" He could feel how cold his voice had gone. She was one hell of a naïve little girl, if she could stand in front of him in her present circumstances, and sprout all that idealistic crap. "I could, Ishin, and when I do, you _will_ regret it."

This was, she realized, a conversation she should never have gotten into. That would be just up his street, wouldn't it, utilizing secrets to run a potential rival's business into the ground. Hands on hips and eyes narrowed, she met his gaze. "Are you threatening me?"

"I do believe I am," he said, his voice soft. "Though." He reached forward and, in one swift movement, pulled off her headband. Her hair spilled open, cascading around her shoulders in scarlet waves. "I might relent, if you..." He placed a hand under her chin and lifted it. "Please me enough."

Her eyes widened. "Get out," she said. "Get _out_ of my house."

He stepped back, cut a small portion of crêpe and, raising the fork he had picked up to his mouth, bit into it. "Let's see you make me," he said. Calm. Unconcerned. Remorseless.

He wouldn't, she realized. There were several courses of action open to her if she wanted to make sure he didn't stay there a minute longer... and, considering that almost all of them involved external help, none of them could lead to anything good. She could feel the desire to kick him in the stomach, growing stronger in her. Gritting her teeth, she stormed out of the kitchen and did the one thing she knew would bring down her temper.

She switched off the light, curled up on the couch with a pillow, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

She felt better, almost at once. Calmer. More collected. So Tora Igarashi was somewhere about the house. That was fine. He would be gone soon and, until then, she could kick him if he so much as came within a foot of her. Hard. In fact..

There was a soft click as the lights were turned on again.

"Should you be wasting your time like that?" Tora drawled. "There's work to do, commoner."

She sat up, her knees pulled up to her chest, and her arms crossed over them. She looked like a defiant, little child... which amused him. "I'll do it when I want to, _rich kid_," she said, voice sour.

He stepped in front of her, towering over her and a little too close. Her eyes widened, just a little uncertain. "Where did you learn to cook?" he asked.

The unexpected question caught her off guard. "Dad taught me," she said, eyes narrowed.

"Your _father_ taught you to cook?" He sounded, she realized, disdainful.

"Oh grow up, Igarashi," she said. "Dad was a good cook. He taught me." She'd adopted that peaceful tone again and that, more than anything else, irritated the hell out of him. What on earth did she have to be that content about? It was as if she would be content _all_ the time, if he wasn't there to make sure she didn't act like a fierce cat. How could someone, anyone, be that much in peace? "There's nothing shocking about it."

"I see." His voice was cool.

"I'm sure you do," she said, with total sarcasm. "In fact -"

He caught her wrist and, the movement so sudden it left her without any breath whatsoever, pressed her spine into the armrest of the couch. She looked up into his face, her glare murderous… and her eyes widened. His face was different, his eyes dark and like steel and almost infuriated, his expression both cold and irritated.

"Why the hell," his voice was low. Like ice. More intense than she had ever heard it. "_Are you content_?"

"What is wrong with you?" She said, stunned. His grip on her wrists was almost painful... a first. "_Igarashi_." For the first time, her voice was uncertain as it was snappish; and it was a proof of her surprise and shock, that she didn't shove him off, but said what she said next. "You're _hurting _me, you idiot."

He let go and stepped back, almost at once. She could see him in side profile, all gold eyes and long lashes and fine hair. His chest was rising and falling just a little too fast as if – and that, she told herself, wasn't something that ever happened (or could have happened) to Tora Igarashi – for once, he had lost control of his feelings.

She rose to her feet, aware she was shaken, and not sure if she could tell the reason behind it. Not sure if there even _was_ a reason behind it. "Good night," she said.

He didn't respond.

For once in her life, Sarakshi Ishin did the wise thing and slipped out of the room.

-;-

The bed was warm, comfortable and – she was more thankful for this last thing, than she had been for most things, in a while – familiar. Homework was not the first, or even the last, thing she wanted to do, right now. But, aware that her choice in the matter was less than limited, she picked up her bag and dumped its contents on her bed.

When she closed her books, almost an hour later, she realized Igarashi was standing at the door. He was leaning against it, at perfect ease, as if he had been leaning against it for quite a while.

"Igarashi?" She sounded just a tad uncertain.

"How come I get the couch?" He drawled.

She would never have admitted it to herself, let alone him, that she was relieved he was back to who she knew him to be. Elegant. Sarcastic. Manipulative. Remorseless. Womanizing. "You've been standing there for God-knows-how-long to say _that_?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"You were studying," he pointed out smoothly. "I am… highly considerate."

She gazed at him, in pure disbelief… and then, to his absolute surprise, she laughed. She had a soft, musical laugh, the kind that made him want to cut it short in all sorts of manners. She wouldn't be laughing, once he was done with her. She rose to her feet and, gathering her books in her arm, dumped them on her writing desk. "Go to bed, Igarashi."

"You haven't provided me with one." He placed his hand over her lips and had the satisfaction of seeing her cheeks go a vivid shade of scarlet. "Would you be opposed to… sharing?"

She shoved him out of the bedroom, and locked the door.

-;-

It took Sarakshi several moments to realize, when she woke up to sunlight streaming into the room the following morning, why she felt an impending sense of doom.

Tora Igarashi.

Feet clad in carpet slippers, she unlocked her bedroom door and frowned. She took up half of the couch, at best. Igarashi took up all of it, and then some. His chest was bare and, as she looked down at him with a frown, Sarakshi supposed she ought to be glad nothing else was.

It had been a good idea to toss a blanket out after him last night, after all.

She looked down at him again, the frown no longer a small one. Not awake, he looked… unrecognizable. There was no smirk, no cold calculation, no conceited expression lurking around his mouth and set in his eyes. His face was smooth and all angles and almost… beautiful. Like a mask had fallen off. Like, when he couldn't pretend, it was possible to see underneath the perfect exterior. There were shadows under his eyes, almost dark. Like bruises. Hair fell over them. She reached out a hand to push it back, off his forehead and out of his eyes… and he stirred and opened his eyes.

"Ishin." There was lazy grin on his lips. He folded his hands behind his head and looked up at her, his gaze full of wicked interest. "You don't need to resort to underhanded tactics, if you want me. You can always… ask me for it."

"I suppose it was too much to hope that you wouldn't be a vile, lecherous pervert, at least right after you woke up," Sarakshi muttered.

"My breakfast, Ishin." He could hear the authoritative power in his voice, and that suited him just fine. "I don't like to be kept waiting."

"You… are a hopeless case."

He sat up, propped his feet on the table, and inspected her with something of a smirk. She narrowed her eyes. "What?" She asked.

"Ducks," he said. "How cute."

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. When she did, her cheeks turned pink. Trust him to notice what was on the back of her pyjamas. She swept past him in miffed silence but, when she reached the door, she paused.

"Igarashi?"

"Ishin?" He said silkily.

She frowned. "Will you.. go back home?"

"My breakfast, Ishin," he replied, his voice smooth.

She turned around, nothing snappish about the gesture. Someone like Tora Igarashi did not visit maid cafés and rundown parks, unless he needed an environment where he could pass for as unknown as he would ever be (which, considering the amount of female attention he generated, was not unknown per se), and someone like Tora Igarashi did not need an environment where he could pas for as unknown as he would ever be, if all was good and fine in his too-expensive-for-her home. "Your parents aren't your enemies," she said, her voice soft.

"No," he agreed. "The enmity lies somewhere else entirely."

She hadn't been expecting a response, even one she did not understand, and her eyes flickered, in surprise. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that you should remember." His voice wasn't cold but dark and, her eyes widening, she realized how dangerous, how lethal and how unapproachable he sounded when he adopted that tone. It was almost like... Marjani. "That curiosity killed the cat."

She had that feeling all over again.. the feeling that she might have stepped on to some sort of forbidden territory she did not understand.

-;-

The sunlight was several shades of golden against her scarlet hair. She was holding a hair tier between her teeth and, as she gripped her hair with one hand, Sarakshi saw him reflected in the mirror, tall and elegant and all manners of insolent.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, tone suspicious.

"Making you uncomfortable, for a start." Tora's voice was all silk and gravel.

"I would never have noticed," Sarakshi said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Igarashi..." She took him in. He was wearing a shirt, a brand new shirt, the sleeves buttoned, the gold cufflinks gleaming, and his lips curved into a smirk when his eyes met hers.

"Right." She set down her brush, picked up her keys, and refused to ask him how on earth he had gotten new clothes. "Out," she said.

He smirked. "To think we didn't even get to explore the bedroom."

If looks could have killed, the glare she gave him would have sent him crashing into the wall several times. She grabbed her jacket and, without a word, swept past him, out of the room, and through the main door. She stepped out into the morning light and, aware that locking Igarashi inside her apartment was not an option, turned around to see if he had decided to follow. He was leaning against the wall as if he'd always been there, one hand resting on the doorknob, his tie loose, the top three buttons of his shirt open. His eyes held hers, lazy, wicked, suggestive.

"Unbuttoned shirt. How original." She drew herself to her full height. "Right. Let's make this clear, Igarashi. I'm aware of your dislike of commoners' places but, considering that making my life miserable seems to be your number one goal, I'll say this once and for all: I don't want you hovering around here when I get back."

"I don't hover, Ishin." He tilted her chin upwards. He was wearing cologne and that, Sarakshi thought, was ridiculous. Where on earth had he gotten that cologne, in the present circumstances? "Whatever I do, is always... deeply personal."

"I had no idea deeply personal was another term for idiotic," she snapped, aware that her cheeks had turned pink.

"What makes you think," His voice was soft and plain, sheer disdainful. "That I would have the time or inclination to return to a place such as this?"

"I didn't say you would," she said, eyes narrowed.

"Didn't you now?" He asked lazily.

He was infuriating. "I'm done here," Sarakshi said. "I'm leaving." She made to turn around.. only to realize that Igarashi had no intention of letting her do so. His hand tightened around her arm. Not a tight grip but, she realized, a grip she might have some level of trouble attempting to get out of.

"You aren't implying you won't offer me a ride, are you?" He asked.

"My bike is still non-functional, Igarashi," she said, her words clipped. "If you want a ride, take the bus."

He smirked, a self-satisfied smirk that bothered her because she couldn't put her finger on the reason behind it. "You don't think I know –" He brushed back a tendril of her hair, the touch wicked and sinful and teasing – "How buses work, do you?"

If she wasted five more minutes here, she was going to be late; and telling him to call his chauffeur would, without doubt, end up in a conversation that would waste far more than five minutes. Sarakshi gritted her teeth. "Fine, Igarashi. Do whatever you want. But I'm going to get off at school."

"Then I'll just have to get off there too, won't I?" Tora said smoothly.

"Jeez, Igarashi, please don't go out of your way to make my life miserable," she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. "Just pull another go-with-me-or-you-will-be-expelled one on me."

"There are all kinds of manipulation." His tone was almost amused. "Sticking to one for too long..." He placed his face above her shoulder. "Turns me off."

Her cheeks flushed. He stepped back and smirked. "You look flustered, Ishin."

She glared at him, turned around and stalked off, down the stairs.

-;-

Crowded. Impersonal. Boring. The three words, Tora thought with disdain, that effectively summed up a commoners' bus.

He could have called for a ride. He knew Genkei and, whatever else his father may or may not be, the man was a first-class snob to the last degree. If Tora had told him he was boarding a commoners' bus, the man would have ensured his son got off the bus, and into a limo, within the span of five minutes... and then gone back to his decision of refusing to associate with said son.

He looked down at his cellphone. Why hadn't he called?

She… interested him. He hadn't had this much fun playing with a woman, in a while. He wanted to see her eyes narrow. He wanted to get a rise out of her. He wanted to push her back on a table. She was like a challenge and challenges were, for Tora Igarashi, meant to be accepted. She would turn to him. It was just a matter of time. He turned his face to look at her. Her attention was focused on the open notebook in her lap. Tapping a pen against its side, she frowned down at the equation at the top of the page.

He leaned back in his seat and, voice suggestive, asked,

"How far have you and Marjani gotten, then?"

He heard the tapping stop, a shocked sort of stop. It was enough for Tora to realize that the question had hit a nerve. "What is it, Sarakshi-chan?" He asked, his smirk satisfied. "Did I... intrude?"

"It's not like that," she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Oh?" He leaned in, his breath across her neck. "What is it like, then?"

"It wasn't even... he didn't even.." She didn't get flustered often and, when she did, the change in her was always... satisfying. "I don't think he meant to... it's not like.."

He placed a finger on her lips. "You make me feel sinful when you get flustered, Ishin," he drawled.

She flushed a darker shade of red. "Cut it out, Igarashi." She folded her arms across her chest and, for several seconds, glared at him. Then she realized that he couldn't have known. Unless... "How did you find out?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. The sole person who could have told him was Marjani Suoh. Who would never have done so. She knew that with a certainty so absolute, a trust so total, a faith so complete, that the mere realization of it stunned her.

"I assumed," he smirked.

"I see." She pursed her lips. She was aware that, in letting him manipulate her into confirming his suspicions, she might have made a gigantic mistake. He and Marjani did not get along, and it would be just like him to save that information and, if it suited his purposes, misuse it sometime in the unforeseeable future. "I don't think he.. meant to," she said but, even as she said it, she knew Marjani _had_ meant to and that Tora Igarashi, of all people, would not be fooled by her weak attempt to convince him otherwise.

"Of course he did." His voice was serious, colder than usual, and she looked up, surprised. "You've known him long enough, Ishin."

She knew what he meant, without his having to complete the sentence. Known Marjani long enough to know he wouldn't have done it, if he hadn't meant it. To know he never did anything, if he did not mean it. She thought of that kiss, if it could even be called a kiss, and frowned. She'd done her best not to think of it and, the truth was, she didn't want to think of it. Knowing someone like Marjani Suoh might harbour feelings for her, was not a concept she could comprehend. She knew him too well... and too little.

"We haven't talked since," she said softly.

"Then he'll want to talk to you," he said. He was half amused and, though he did not show it, half surprised. It was all quite.. interesting.

"And you are qualified to say that because?" There was sarcasm in her voice. Deep sarcasm.

He leaned back in his chair with the kind of grace few have. "Because I know him," he replied.

There was a darkness in his voice, and it took her a moment to realize why it seemed so familiar.. there was a similar darkness in Marjani's voice whenever he spoke of Igarashi. "What are you two?" She asked, her voice soft, as the bus slowed down to a halt. "Friends? Rivals?"

"What was your father's name? Care to tell me?"

Sarakshi flinched. "Right. None of my business. I get it." She rose to her feet as the bus jerked to a stop and, slinging her bag over one shoulder, stepped down from it. He stepped down after her in a movement that was beyond graceful. How could he make stepping down from a bus seem as if it were a skill he had practiced all his life? Sarakshi scowled at the thought.. until he spoke and the scowl disappeared.

"It seems you have a visitor," he said, sounding as if he was relating an interesting tale.

She didn't have to ask who. There was something in his voice that told her. Sarakshi looked up and saw Marjani, as she had known she would. He was standing at a good distance from them, his head bent, as if in thought, casting a tall, lean shadow across the ground. Even from the distance, she could see how _him_ his eyes were. Dark. Dangerous. Refusing to include the rest of the world.

"You know what, Igarashi?" She was reminded of the time she had arrived at her apartment, in Tora's coat. It had not been a nice time. "Back off. The last thing I want, is to be seen climbing off a bus with you."

"Isn't it a little too late for that?" He sounded, if anything, amused. "He's seen."

She frowned. "He hasn't looked up," she pointed out.

"He saw." His voice was cool and, for a reason she couldn't have explained if she had tried, she believed him. "If you want to salvage whatever situation you have with him, I suggest you move now."

"I have no 'situation' with him -"

"Then I suppose it shouldn't displease him if I do this." He pulled her to him, the movement not smooth. She stumbled, just a little, and grabbed his shirt to regain her balance, as he had known she would. "Perfect," he said, bending down so there was almost no distance between their lips.

Her eyes widened and she let go of his shirt, as if burned. But, even as she stepped back, the picture of both rage and shock, she was aware Marjani had both seen and left. It might not have bothered her if it had been an actual kiss and one with someone she loved. But, as she looked up to see the self-satisfied smirk playing around Igarashi's mouth, she was aware of something like a storm of quiet, cold anger in the pit of her stomach.

"You bastard," she whispered. "You manipulative _bastard_."

He buttoned his shirt, smirked at her, and disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

><p><em>Uni be eviiil. I feel like.. I haven't updated since forever. Sooo here is an extra long chapter. To be honest, it became LONGER than I intended it to be. I tried to keep it less than 10, 000 words... and succeeded. Even if it's 9, 700+ words. =p<br>_

_Lots of thanks to o, Twillk, MARSBARYUM, MoyaMetalDango13, ulqui x, KaoriCarrie, Ally (Thank you. So are YOU. :3), echizenochi, NerdPop, Wildfly, crazyforcanines and Lucky kick (I am SO glad I could make you a Tora fan! Knowing that means a loot to me =3) for taking out the time to read and review. _*_*_ Alsoo to the one, mysteriiooous unnamed reviewer. O: Aaand, Love lover, I think checking out fictionratings dot com will be helpful. =)_

_Thank youu for reading. Reviews be nice. *gives all of you cookies* __:3___


	11. how Tides control the sea

**c h a p t e r e l e v e n**

**how TIDES control the sea.  
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* * *

><p>x<p>

"I've been thinking..." The cafeteria was packed with students and Linda tossed her thick, blonde hair back as she slid into the seat next to Sarakshi. "Of joining some sort of club."

"You should discuss that with Sora-chan," Sarakshi said, resisting the urge to respond with a 'where have I heard that before?' There wasn't often a time when Linda wasn't thinking of joining a club or committee - she believed it would alleviate her parents' anxieties over what their firecracker of a daughter 'got up to' - and, considering that the blonde had yet to join one, Sarakshi knew better than to take Linda's statement with any amount of seriousness. "She's into a few clubs. She could guide you."

"I will. When I have time. Maybe." In short, Linda dropped the topic. Like a hot potato. "You free this weekend?"

The last time Sarakshi had accompanied Linda to a place outside of Miyabigoka, she'd lost a match to Igarashi. It wasn't much of a surprise, then, that when Sarakshi spoke, her voice held a certain amount of wariness. "I may have another obligation," she said. "Is it something..." If she'd been talking to someone else, she might have asked if if it was something important but Linda's definition of 'important' was a bit skewed. "Serious?"

"Remember the backstage passes I won to UxMishi's next concert?" Linda flashed Sarakshi her supermodel smile. "The concert's this weekend. You should come. We can't let those passes go to waste, can we now?"

Sarakshi considered this. On one hand, life had been spiralling out of control of late and she needed to get back into the old stride of things. On the other, she knew she needed a break. She'd never been stupid enough to think she could handle everything life threw at her, all at once. "What's the catch?" She asked with a bit of a smile. Implying that there was always a catch if Linda was involved, was too fun a temptation to resist.

"Do I look like I'm stupid enough to tell you in advance?" Linda grinned, not to be outdone.

When Linda grinned like that, it was hard not to feel certain that something was going to go wrong. "You haven't invited, say, Igarashi, have you?" Saraskhi asked, just to be sure.

Linda raised an eyebrow. "You are too fixated on the prez, woman."

Considering that "the prez" had the incurable habit of turning up at places she didn't want him at and manipulating her life into hell, it was ironic that _she_ was the one being told she had a fixation. "Sure, I am," she muttered. Then her eyes narrowed. "That isn't a yes, is it?"

"No. Though now that you mention it, I'm sure I could.."

"_No_," Sarakshi said, tone firm.

Linda grinned, but had the good grace to let _that_ topic drop. "I suppose I could always invite Marjani..." she mused.

That, Sarakshi thought drily, was an even surer recipe for trouble. Which, considering that the previous recipe had involved Tora Igarashi, was saying something. She thought of the last time she had seen Marjani and, aware that that situation might now be beyond salvation, resisted the urge to bite her lip. "No," she said, voice soft. She paused, an awkward sort of pause. "I mean.."

There was a second of silence in which Linda looked at Sarakshi.. and Sarakshi looked at a point somewhere to the left of Linda's ear. Then - almost as if there had been no awkward second of surprised silence - the blonde grinned. "You have serious issues if you don't want either of two hot guys around, girl."

Hot was not the adjective, Sarakshi thought, for either of them. Igarashi was... well, Igarashi. You didn't describe him, because you couldn't describe him. She'd never know who he was, good or bad, in a million years. Marjani? He was more of a walking, talking danger sign, than anything else. Dark. Dangerous. The kind of guy you were told not to associate with, for your own good.

"I'm beginning to think I do," she said drily, stabbing her noodles with a fork.

-;-

"Tora." Voice smooth, Taijo Maki motioned to the seat across him, on the other side of his desk. "We weren't able to discuss details on the phone but, it goes without saying, I'd be more than pleased to help you with whatever has come up."

Tora sat down, the action nonchalant. Favour for favour was one of the unwritten rules of the business world and, considering all the help he had offered Director Maki's son over the past few years, he'd expected as much. "Thank you, Director," he said, his tone quite.. amiable. "It isn't a major issue; but I thought it would be better, if we could discuss it in person."

"Of course," Taijo agreed. Kanade and Tora had been friends for a long, long while and, as such, Tora was like a son to him... an all too clever, all too skilled, all too smooth son, to be exact. Sometimes, Taijo didn't know if he envied or pitied Genkei Igarashi.

"I'd like a list of dining companies that have been active and successful in Japan, in the past five years," Tora said, his hands joined at the fingertips in a a calm, nonchalant manner. "With details of their owners. If." His smile was a rather pointed one and Taijo knew, instinctively, that someone was in big, big trouble. "That isn't too much of a bother."

"Not at all." Taijo waved a dismissive hand. "My assistant could see to that, this evening. Now, what would you like?"

"Red wine," Tora said, his smile just a little too... Igarashi.

-;-

"Listen," Sarakshi took a step backwards, as if Daiki Hiroshi - all of five feet and, as such, a whole inch shorter than her - was about to attempt to assault her. Which, considering the bombshell of a statement he had just dropped, was almost true. "I really think Igarashi and I need to go over this scene together, first."

"You are going over it, now!" Daiki waved a fist in the air. He was red-faced and sounded beyond irritated. "On the stage!"

She'd known this would happen, sooner or later... and like the fool that she was, she had pretended she hadn't; as if by pretending there was no disaster in the making, there would be no disaster in the making. Furious, she snapped her gaze on to Igarashi, who was seated in the second row, absolutely unruffled, his hands folded behind his head and a smirk playing around his mouth. His eyes met hers with a wicked glint, and her eyes narrowed.

"I am not kissing him!" She snapped, her voice heated.

"It is in the play! You get it? It is in the play!" Daiki was shaking with irritation. "It will be the heart of the production! The scene that will dazzle everyone!"

"But there's so much else to rehearse." Even to her own ears, her excuse sounded pathetic. There was _nothing_ else to rehearse, at this point. "We can go over it later... right, Igarashi-_san_?" She added, her voice beyond venomous, as if daring him to disagree.

"Of course not," he rose to his feet, his tone like silk. "The more practice we get…" His eyes lingered on her, the look in them devilish. "The better it will look in the actual play, _Sarakshi-chan_."

"I will be helping you through the scene!" Daiki announced, oblivious to whatever was going on, between the two leads in his production. Sarakshi supposed she ought to be thankful that he had, at least, not called most of the other actors and actresses to the afternoon's rehearsal. The last thing she wanted, was to have to kiss that jerk of a manipulator in front of a half-packed auditorium. "I understand that you might be feeling nervous. It is nervousness, yes? There is no need for that! There is nothing romantic about an onstage kiss, you understand?"

Sarakshi's cheeks flushed red. Tora grinned a wicked grin that made it clear he found the whole thing quite amusing, and she resisted the urge to swear. Goodness, Daiki made it sound ten times worse and ten times more embarrassing. "Fine," she said, voice clipped. "Fine."

But five minutes later and on the stage, it was anything but.

"You are being too stiff!" Daiki shouted, jumping up and down on his seat and Sarakshi, who was standing in front of Igarashi, rigid and with no intention of kissing him _or_ letting him kiss her, muttered something that sounded a lot like 'I hate you, Hiroshi' and caused Tora to smirk. "Relax, do you understand? You must relax! We will take it from the top!"

"Of course we will," Sarakshi muttered, fists clenched.

"Of course," Tora said, his voice oh-so-amiable. She glared at him... and he pulled her to him. His thumb brushed her cheek, something Sarakshi was quite sure had not been in the script. She could feel the muscles of his chest underneath his shirt and, when she glanced up, there was an arrogant, self-satisfied smirk on his face.

She scowled... tripped backwards, and crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Daiki's mouth snapped open, his jaw falling so low it was a wonder it didn't crash into the floor with a loud _clang_. Sarakshi was aware that the few people in the auditorium had sprung to their feet, because someone was pulling her to her feet and someone else was offering her a glass of water. "This is not happening," Daiki was muttering. "This is not happening." His voice had begun to rise, just a little, with each word. "She is ruining my play, ruining it."

Sarakshi gave the two or three people who had crowded around her, all wearing stunned or anxious expressions, what she hoped looked like a weak smile. "I'll be fine," she said. "I just.. need a minute on my own."

Having almost barged into the changing room, she stuck her hands into the pockets of her shorts and took a deep, furious breath. On her own was darned right. She was not doing this. Oh no, she wasn't. She was going to make sure Igarashi told Daiki that there was no need whatsoever to rehearse this stupid scene. She crossed her arms across her chest, scowling at a locker until a soft _thud_ brought her back to earth.

The door had opened and then swung close again. She turned around and her eyes narrowed: Igarashi stood there with an air of total and perfect ease, as if standing there was the most natural thing on the planet.

"Has it occurred to you." Her tone was soft and almost dangerous. "That barging into the girls' locker room could get your prestigious little badge into trouble?"

"That was quite the act you pulled there," he drawled, as if she had never spoken.

"Yes, I seem to have become an excellent actress." She could hear how cold her voice had gone. She would have liked to have said - and believed - that he was nothing but a manipulative jerk. Nothing. But the truth was, she wasn't sure she knew _what_ he was. She hated that she could never tell what he was thinking but, more than that, she hated that he could always tell what she was.

"The question, however, is _why_ you pulled it." His tone was that of someone who had come across a somewhat interesting phenomenon, and felt a bit of an urge to explore it. "I make you nervous, don't I, Ishin?" He closed the distance between them, until he was standing just a little too close for her liking. Enough to make her grit her teeth, but not enough to make her shove him back.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, _president_." Her voice was cool. "I stopped seeing you as anything but a manipulative jerk, a long time ago."

"Should you be calling me that?" He sounded unruffled. "You do.. owe me."

Her eyes narrowed. "I _owed_ you," she said. "I don't anymo -"

He leaned down and kissed her.

She smelled of lavender perfume and it occurred to him that, little chit that she was, he wanted her. Wanted her more than he'd wanted a woman, in a while. In a long while. That she didn't want him, not in the least. For one lingering moment, he felt an irritating sort of surprise he'd never experienced before. Then he covered her lips with his with an almost decisive firmness: authoritative, rough, demanding.

Tora Igarashi had a habit of crossing lines. Of doing what would hit a nerve. Of ensuring she could never figure out who and what he was. Of being close enough to make her uncomfortable, and far enough to make her uncertain. But there were lines even he hadn't attempted to cross; and the action shocked her more than it angered her. She shoved at him, stunned and breathless and panicked, attempting to gather her scattered thoughts, attempting to gauge what he had decided to play at this time round... and he stepped backwards, his eyes dark.

"And that," he said, voice soft. "Was all you had to do onstage."

He turned around, opened the door, and walked out before she could catch her breath.

-;-

"Igarashi."

He couldn't say he hadn't expected her to follow him out of the auditorium. Tora turned around, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, his frame outlined against the cream-and-black backdrop of the school building. Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes still dark with anger, and her breathing still furious.

"What do you want?" He asked lazily.

She threw her script at him. It came apart: the pages cascaded to the ground and scattered into the air, a waterfall of bits of white paper.

"I resign from your play," she said, her voice quiet.

-;-

There is a limit, Sarakshi thought as she tugged off her maid costume, slipped into jeans and a t-shirt and stepped out of the changing room at Crème Maid, to how much a person can take.

She was done with being Tora Igarashi's co-star.

She thought of the look in his eyes that night, when he had shoved her out of the path of her falling bike; a look that had said it had taken him less than a split second to decide that taking the fall was the most practical, most natural, most normal thing to do. Of his face when he had been asleep. Calm. Peaceful. Real. Of the manner in which he opened his eyes, slow and lazy and welcoming. Like warmth. Like laughter.

Darn it, she didn't know when the real him ended, and the act began. _If_ the real him ended, and an act began. She touched her lips, not sure if she felt stunned, shocked, uncomfortable or just plain, sheer furious. Perhaps all four. Because when he held her, he held her like he wanted her, like he _could_ have her if he had an actual mind to, and the almost nonchalant manner, the raw desire, the arrogant implication, all left her with a feeling that was equal parts panic, anger and supreme indignation.

"Have a good evening, Sarakshi-chan~" Manilla sang.

"You too, Chief," Sarakshi said, mustering up a small but warm smile. She picked up her bag and, slinging it over one shoulder as was her wont, stepped out of the cafè. It took her less than a minute to cross the lane and reach its end. She had been about to turn the corner, when she stopped short.

Standing there with an air that suggested she had been standing there for a long time - and Sarakshi knew at once, that the person _had_ been standing there for a long time. Not just standing there. Waiting there. - was a tall girl in pencil heels. She was older than Sarakshi. Eighteen, perhaps. Igarashi's age. Her gleaming brown hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail and, circling one of her fingers, was a large, diamond ring.

"Kurumi." Sarakshi said, her voice soft.

"Someone like you." Kurumi Kaishu's tone was as sharp as steel. "Should not have the right to take my name." Her eyes swept over Sarakshi - the spike-heeled boots, the old jeans, the oversized t-shirt - and there was enough contempt in them to cause several dozen people to cower in a corner. Her gaze snapped on to the door Sarakshi had emerged from, less than two minutes ago. ".. a maid," she hissed. "You're nothing but a common, working slu -"

"I wouldn't finish that, if I were you." Sarakshi's voice was quite, quite calm. "Now, if that's all.."

Kurumi Kaishu was not used to being ignored and, as Sarakshi removed her gaze from her, the brunette's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare," she hissed.

Sarakshi couldn't have said that she had ever thought Kurumi Kaishu would have a bone to pick with her but, even so, her expression was calm as she raised her gaze to look at the older girl. "Directing your anger at me." Her voice was soft. Collected. "Isn't going to do you any good."

"Look at you." The first time she had seen Kurumi, Sarakshi had thought she was beautiful. Now, however - her eyes livid and her expression full of a twisting kind of anger - Kurumi looked anything but. "You dress like a tramp. You work as a maid. You.. you... what the hell could he see in you?" Her face contorted in anger as she spat at Sarakshi's feet. "Listen to me, Sarakshi Ishin, and listen to me well: if I hear, ever again, that you were with Marjani Suoh, I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your life. I will make you regret that you were ever _born_."

She'd had enough of being threatened. To be exact, she'd had enough of being threatened by people who thought she was beneath them. "I have no designs whatsoever on your fiancé." Voice cold, Sarakshi stepped past Kurumi. "But I'll see him if I want to, and when I want to. Marjani is my friend."

She did not look back or turn around. Just hitched her bag higher up her shoulder and, chin held high, walked back to her apartment.

-;-

Unlocking her apartment door, Sarakshi resisted the urge to sigh. She'd never doubted for a single moment that Kurumi Kaishu meant each word of her threat but, with everything else on her plate, it was hard to think of it as the worst thing that had happened to her, in the past month. Or even the past _day._

There were just too many other events, and at least one other person, vying for that spot.

Marjani seemed to have enough of an interest in her to anger his fiancée. Igarashi seemed to have no plans to let her live in peace, unless she accepted she was beneath him. Daiki would want a legitimate reason for her resign. Her bike no longer functioned. It was ironic that this last problem was the one most bothering her, at the moment. But the fact was, she needed a functional vehicle if she wanted to continue turning up everywhere she had to be, on time. Especially if offended fiancées were going to stop her in the middle of the road and waste the limited time she had, to get to another place.

It was time to call a mechanic and, as she sank on to the couch, Sarakshi decided she would do that, tonight. She closed her eyes and buried her head in a pillow... and her eyes widened. It smelled of cologne, seductive, expensive, lingering cologne. Igarashi's cologne. Her cheeks pink, she dropped it, rose to her feet and, grabbing a jacket, did the first thing that occurred to her: she headed outside into the cold, evening wind.

The weather outside was indecisive, cold but not cold enough to make one want to slip on a pair of socks. The wind blew about autumn-coloured leaves and, folding her arms across her chest, Sarakshi descended the staircase and, in an effort to distract herself, threw open the door of the garage. Her bike was parked in a corner and, as she switched on the lights, she realized it looked... different. Her lips pulling into a small frown, she went up to it. It took her less than a moment to realize _what_ was different about its outward appearance.

It was gleaming.

Comprehension she did not want to comprehend locking around her stomach like a circle of ice, she removed the locks, fished the key out of one of her jacket pockets, inserted it into the ignition, and started the bike. She had hoped it wouldn't start.

It did.

The engine roared to life and, for one quiet moment, Sarakshi just stared at the bike, her eyes wide, her heart hammering against her chest. _When?_ she thought. _When the heck?_ Last night? When she had been working on her homework? When she had locked her bedroom door? She had dismissed his words this afternoon; but she understood now, and the understanding left her feeling both snappish and stunned.

_Should you be calling me that? You do.. owe me._

"What the hell do you really want, Igarashi?" she asked the garage, her voice quiet.

* * *

><p><em>*waves to everyone who reviewed and or haz favouruuuted this FF* Y'all know you're awesome, right? 'Cause you are. THIS awesome. Yep. *nodnod* :3 You make me write when I would otherwise be... being lazy in general.  
><em>

_The title of this chapter comes from a Coldplay song. Bonus points to whoever can guess which song. 'Cause I can give out bonus points. Yep. I totally can. *so not delusional* =p And before I forget... If I'm not mistaken, Director Maki calls Tora, Igarashi-san in the manga. Which I replaced with just Tora. Because it seemed to make more sense, at least in the context of this FF. ^_^  
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_Twillk: He.. sortofkissed her. I guess XD And.. yaay hyper!ness! I'm hyper MOST of the time. Like now. =p  
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_Lucky kick: Eeee yaaay. It wasn't really a kiss. He was mostly putting on an act to get to Marjani. SOOO. Yay for future intense kisses? If there ARE future kisses. *tries to look mysterious.. and fails?* XD_

_Ally: I... don't know what to say. Except.. thank you. _*_*_  
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_oshichan: Hehhe. That's pretty much a standard trope in a lot of manga/ anime, though not all authors can make it work. :/  
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_MARSBARYUM, Wildfly, trisha, echizenochi (Your username is so different-ish. *wonders what it means*) and ulqui x.. thank yoou. For the reviews. =3 _

_Aaand. Once again. Feedback/ constructive criticism always welcome.  
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	12. all war is Deception

**c h a p t e r t w e l v e  
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**all war is DECEPTION.  
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Having to get up for school was not high on the list of things Sarakshi enjoyed doing. That did not, however, mean that she did not love mornings. There was something light and refreshing and calm about them and, as she slipped her feet into her slippers and rose out of the tangle that was her bedsheets, she breathed in the scent of morning air with a quiet sort of contentment.

Stifling a yawn, she stepped into the lounge. The place looked how it had looked the night before. Neat. Clean. In perfect order. She had been about to turn around and head for a shower, when she noticed the envelope. It was pale white, and had been slipped into the house through the space between the floor and door. Half of it was still outside, as if whoever had pushed it inside had not wanted to waste time on such a task.

She had a feeling she knew what it was about.

Closing the distance between herself and the door, she bent down to retrieve it. The moment she picked it up, several pictures fell out. Pictures of her. It was clear that all of them had been taken by a novice photographer, and that all of them had been taken outside Crème Maid. That should have been what made Sarakshi narrow her eyes but, considering that all of them had been torn into two, right down the middle, it wasn't. Scrawled over the topmost photograph were the words: _This is your only warning._

Sarakshi looked down at the picture, a small frown on her face. Then she picked up her cellphone and punched in Marjani's number.

"Marjani Su –"

"We need to talk."

There was a pause. Then Marjani said, his voice soft, "I'm afraid I'm not free, at the moment."

"That's a pathetic excuse, especially for you," Sarakshi snapped. The fact that he refused to see through Igarashi's manipulation when he _knew_ what that git was capable of, more than just irked her. "I wouldn't have taken you for someone who jumped to conclusions."

"I don't believe I did." His voice, as always, was dark. Unaffected. Unwilling to rise to any bait whatsoever.

"Marjani." How calm her voice was, surprised her. "Your fiancée just left a stack of ripped pictures on my doorstep. Ripped pictures of - I thought I might mention - me. Do you still think you're too busy to talk to me?"

There was a brief pause. Then he said,

"When do you get off?"

Her hand unclenched around the envelope. The last thing she cared about at the moment, was the stack of photos. But if it was the one reason he was going to answer her questions, she would use it. Heck, she would overuse it, if she had to.

"Anytime. Now."

-;-

It was ridiculous, how gorgeous the place was. Sarakshi sat across him, a round glass table separating them, and silence welling up in the surroundings like frustration.

"There was no need to rent out an entire floor," she said, through clenched teeth.

"It affords us privacy." Marjani's tone was dismissive.

"I see," she said, the statement clipped.

"How convenient."

Sarakshi resisted the urge to grit her teeth. That tone, that statement, that manner, none of it was Marjani. It was all, she thought, like_ Igarashi_. She had been sitting here since she had arrived and, although that had been less than ten minutes ago, it felt like far, far more. The silence - she wouldn't call the conversation so far, all short, clipped and formal sentences, a conversation - was beginning to make her want to hit Marjani on the head.

"Kurumi stopped me outside Crème Maid, yesterday." She felt as if he would never bring up the topic of Kurumi, or any topic for that matter, if she didn't. "She seems to believe I have.." she paused and frowned. "Designs on you."

"Which you don't," Marjani supplied.

"Which I don't," Sarakshi agreed. It occurred to her that thinking that a face-to-face conversation could convince Marjani Suoh of anything, might have been one of the stupider mistakes of her life - and that was saying something, considering all the competition. "I found the photos under the door, this morning."

"Quite crude," he observed.

He had flipped open a gleaming menu and she might as well not have existed. Sarakshi resisted the urge to throw one of the wineglasses at his head. "Yes," she said, tone clipped. "_What the hell are you doing?_"

He looked up. "Going through the menu," he said, voice calm.

That was it. The last straw. "Cut it out!" Sarakshi rose to her feet and slammed a fist into the middle of the table. The wineglasses clattered and fell over, one of them breaking into two, large pieces. "That's enough, Marjani. If you're hurt, then be hurt! If you're furious, then be furious! There's no need to act like a stubborn, little child!"

His eyes narrowed. It was the first reaction she had been able to get out of him in the past couple of days and, by all means, she ought to have felt victorious. She didn't. She turned around, her eyes fixed on the velvet curtains that ran against the walls, dark and beautiful. "Damn it, Marjani, I thought you were my friend," she said, voice soft.

"What do you see in him?" There was something dark, darker than usual, in his tone.

"Other than all the manipulation and the jerkdom?" She could feel how dry her voice had gone. She swept past him and picked up her bag. "This wasn't supposed to be about him. I came here because I wanted to talk to you about _us_. I'm beginning to realize, though, that it was stupid of me to think I could." She looked up and met his gaze, her own calm. "I suppose that wineglass cost something ridiculous, and I can't offer to pay for it?"

"You're a terrible liar." His voice was calm; and it occurred to Sarakshi that, with the exception of her initial question, he had just ignored all that she had said.

"You're one to talk, Suoh." She turned to him, eyes narrowed and aware - for half a moment, at least - that a confrontation with Marjani Suoh might not be such a wise idea. Then she crossed her arms across her chest and met his gaze. "You have no plans to ever marry Kurumi Kaishu, do you?"

"You're mistaken."

His voice was low, almost dangerous; and the conviction behind the statement surprised her. She frowned, a small sort of frown. "But you didn't... choose each other," she said, the words soft. It was not a question, but a statement.

"Our fathers decided it would be a good match." There was no emotion whatsoever in his voice. No anger, no resentment, and certainly no regret. Sarakshi thought of Kurumi, all pencil heels and long eyelashes and sophistication, and found it hard to believe Kurumi Kaishu could ever accept a match her parents had arranged for her.

"She didn't argue?" She asked, a frown in her voice.

"We talked." His voice was still impassive. Neutral. Sarakshi wanted to shake him until he let his eyes show what he felt. Whatever he felt. "She found out I was uninterested, and decided she wasn't."

"But you aren't in love with her." It surprised her, how sure she was of that. Could she read Marjani Suoh? Could _anyone_ read Marjani Suoh? "You could break it off."

"I suppose." His eyes were like shutters, all over again.

Sarakshi swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. "How unfair -" She could hear the frustration in her voice. "Can you be, Marjani? You never let anyone in on who the real you is. You expect me to tell you everything, when you tell me nothing. You can't keep your secrets, your own, and expect me to call you my friend. _You can't kiss me and disappear, as if it were the most normal thing in the world!_"

"Would you rather I kiss you and _stay_?"

There was sarcasm in his voice and, beneath the sarcasm, anger. Sarakshi folded her arms across her chest. "Why did you kiss me?" she demanded.

He turned around. There was something harsh and fluid about the movement, like a particularly sharp wind. The kind that destroys. "I love you." His voice was curt. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

How sudden the statement was, threw her off. There was nothing nice, nothing pleasant, nothing romantic about it. It was what his voice was: dark, harsh, unapologetic. The realization that the one reason she had refused to confront the matter - to even think about the fact that he had kissed her - was that she hadn't wanted things between them to change, washed over her. Realization... and anger. How could he ever think that the sole reason she was here, was to force him to admit his feelings? It was not a contest. It would_ never_ be a contest, between her and Marjani. "No," she said, voice quiet. "This isn't some sort of competition –"

"So I can see." His voice was cold. "Competitions of that sort take place when two people are at the same emotional level. This, on the other hands, is one-side to the point of being -" He stopped and, for one sudden moment, all was quiet. Then he stepped back, the action graceful. "I apologize." His voice was unreadable, again. Deep. Neutral. "That was uncalled for."

"You apologize for what?" She demanded. "For letting on your feelings, for once? You can't be serious, Marjani. Be a walking, talking weapon, if you want to be. That's fine with me. But don't you _dare_ think you can pretend everything is fine when it isn't, in front of me."

"I have -" his voice was far from warn - "_Never_ pretended." He leaned against the wall, and met her gaze. "It suits me that I can intimidate people. It never suited you. You decided, all on your own, that we were friends. If I hadn't come to realize you have no sense of self-preservation -" His words had become drier, now. "I would have thought you were naive."

"If you're trying to compliment me, it isn't working," Sarakshi said drily.

"I'm not." He turned around and then touched the black wristband around that enclosed his wrist. Then, in one quiet movement, he unclasped it. The wristband fell to the floor with the softest of _thud_-s. Surprised, she glanced down at his wrist.. and her breath caught in her throat.

The skin beneath the band was darker than rest of his arm. It twisted into a design and, in the dark, one might have taken the design for a tattoo. It was not a tattoo, however; Sarakshi knew that the moment she looked at it. It was large and elegant... and it had been burned right into his wrist.

"Marjani.." Can your voice desert you? Because when she tried to speak, Sarakshi realized hers had.

"It's a servant's mark." There was no emotion whatsoever in his tone. It was almost a drawl.

"I.." Her hand closed around his wrist, her eyes large. Disbelieving. "How?" Her voice was a whisper.

"Things happen when you live on the streets." He sounded curt now, the kind of curt that made her want to flinch and take a step back. "To be fair to my mother -" His smile was ironic - "She had no idea the orphanage she was giving me off to would traffick me into - what do you call it? Ah yes - unpaid labour. When she came to visit me years later and found out, she threw a fit. It's quite the amusing tale."

What horrified her weren't the events, but how he spoke of them. Like it were all some ironic anecdote he had read about.

"It's not -"

"Oh, but it is." His voice was dismissive. "It seems when she found out, she wanted her son safe and sound. She threatened to sue my father if he didn't have me tracked down." There was something about the manner in which he said father, that made it clear he was not referring to Mr. Suoh. "He wasn't worried, but certain… elements convinced him to take action. I was found. Mrs. Suoh weaved an excellent tale about having decided to adopt me." He paused and removed her hand from his arm, the action not gentle. "Does the please you?" His voice was hard. "Make you feel better because you know my secrets? Feel you have some sort of power over me? Does that convince me you know me?"

His tones were as harsh and her throat felt parched, like it had been a long time since she had had a drink. It was all too sudden. Too unexpected. Too _much_. "I didn't..." She met his gaze, her own quiet. There are some things that even the most eloquent of people cannot put into words and she? She'd never been good with them in the first place. How could she tell him that she would never have wanted him to have to open up if she had known what it would put him through? "Don't." she said, her voice soft.

"You wanted to know." His voice was deadpan. "Now you do." He walked to the door and reached for it. "I can't break off the engagement, because Mr. Suoh arranged it. I owe him. Shall we leave?"

She wanted to throw something at his head. Hard. Didn't he see what he was doing to himself? His refusal to confront his own feelings - his insistence to keep everyone else out of his life - injured more people than just him. "No," she said. Hands on hips, she glared at him. "If you're engaged, Souh, why the hell did you kiss me?"

His eyes narrowed. "I assumed that it would feel nice."

"You _idiot_." She doubted anyone had called him that in a long, long time and the surprise in his eyes, made her want to call him that _again_. "You know what? I never thought I'd say this, but Igarashi was right. You do have a Messiah Complex."

His eyes flashed. It was the sign of life Sarakshi had been looking for. "Who do you think you are, saviour of the world?" Her voice was harsh. "You've thought about others long enough. It's time you start thinking for yourself. You think you're being a martyr, dismissing what you like, what you want, what you dream, to fulfill some hatched up notion of _gratitude_? That is not how gratitude works. That is not –"

"Stop trying," His voice was calm. "To get a rise out of me."

Her eyes flickered. "I hate you." She said, arms crossed against her chest. "For being able to read me so easily."

"You're wrong about a lot of things. Beginning with how you think I have a Martyr Complex, not a Messiah Complex." Intonation the usual deep one, he held open the door. "I take what I want. It's just that I don't want many things."

She frowned. "I give up. I give up on you, Marjani Suoh."

To her surprise, he grinned. "I don't think you could ever say that and mean it." One hand still on the doorknob, he looked down at her. It occurred to her that when Tora held her gaze, she wanted to kick his shin. When Marjani did it, she wanted to raise a questioning eyebrow. "What am I to you?"

It was, Sarakshi realized, one of those questions you don't have to think about, to answer. "Someone I can trust." She paused. "Someone I_ do_ trust."

"I'll tell Kurumi that." He stepped back to let her pass through the door; but she had taken less than two steps outside when his voice broke across her thoughts, again.

"What is Tora Igarashi to you?"

The question caught her off-guard. She turned around, a small frown on her face. "What is he to you?" She asked, arms folded.

Marjani considered her question. "I owe him," he said, at last.

"What do you know, I owe him, too."

But when she stepped back into her apartment later and let the door swing shut behind her, she asked herself what Marjani had asked her.

_What is Tora Igarashi to you?_

It's a strange feeling when you ask yourself a question that you should have an answer to, and realize you don't have one.

-;-

"Tora Igarashi?" Owner and chairman of DC Dining, Hiroto Zentaro, scrunched his brows together. You couldn't be a businessman in Japan if you did not know the Igarashis and as such, Hiroto was quite familiar with the name of the heir to the Igarashi Foundation. He had not, however, expected to come in contact with said son.

Which, of course, explained his current state of surprise.

"He wants to see you. I don't think he'd be willing to wait." The man on the other end of the line sounded a little nervous and Hiroto, who'd always been a perceptive man, had a feeling the nervousness had to do with the afore-mentioned Igarashi.

"I see." Hiroto rubbed his chin, weighing his options. It was unusual for someone to show up out of the blue at his office and, if it had been anyone else, he would have wasted no time in letting them know that he could not be reached, unless someone had arranged an appointment. The problem here was that the person who had turned up was an Igarashi. The last thing Hiroto wanted to do, was to get off on a wrong footing with one of those.

Not to mention.. he was curious.

"Fine." The man inhaled and let out a deep breath. "Let him in," he said.

It was the biggest mistake of his life.

Hiroto didn't realize it until the meeting was halfway through; but he did realize hat he might have made a mistake, the moment Tora Igarashi entered. Genkei Igarashi's son was tall and blond and full of that casual kind of confidence that makes everyone stop to look and then look again... and his smile was just a little too amiable to be true.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" Tora said, pulling up a chair and sitting down with total nonchalance.

"Excuse me?" Hiroto's eyes narrowed. "I do believe I misheard you... Igarashi, was it?"

"Tora Igarashi." The young man said his name with the kind of assurance that most people never achieve in a lifetime. With more than assurance. Pride, Hiroto realized. The pride of someone who knew his capabilities and position, and was not afraid to utilize them to get what he wanted. "Though I do believe what concerns us isn't my name, but yours."

Hiroto raised an eyebrow. "I'm beginning to doubt you're who you claim to be." He glanced at his watch. "You have two minutes to let me know what you want. If you don't tell me anything useful in those two minutes, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave. Or make you."

Tora grinned. It was the kind of devilish grin that made Hiroto think twice about his decision to let Genkei's son in. "You're in no position to call the shots here." He leaned backwards in his chair, his voice cool. "I've spent over a day going through your history. Frankly speaking, it was an inconvenience. I intend to cause you the same inconvenience. Nothing personal." He smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Just... shall we say, fair trade?"

Hiroto's gaze was cold. "Do your parents know you're here, boy?"

"Parents." Tora said the word like it was some rare object of great interest. "Isn't that an interesting term?"

Hiroto's eyes narrowed. He reached for the phone on his desk. Tora resumed speaking before he could, however.

"You see, Mr. Zentaro, I happen to know a girl who lost both her parents. Do you know what captivates me most about her story?"

Hiroto's hand, half an inch away from the phone, fell to his side. He turned to look at the young man seated in front of him and, the moment their eyes met, both of them knew who had won the game. Even if Hiroto refused to admit it.

"It's clear you're not sober, Igarashi-san." Hiroto's voice just a little too harsh. "Perhaps I should contact your parents."

"Do it." Tora motioned with his hand, as if to let him know that was the last thing on the planet, that might concern him. "In the meanwhile, perhaps I could contact the newspapers."

Hiroto slammed a fist on to his desk. "Don't play mind games with me!" He shouted.

Tora resisted the urge to frown - the man had broken down far quicker than Tora had expected him to; and that took the challenge out of the whole thing. He placed his hands behind his head and dropped all pretense. Or at least, came as close to dropping all pretenses as he ever could. "It would be disastrous for your company if the papers found out you refused to help out a relative - your own _niece_ - who had no one else to turn to. You do, after all, have an excellent reputation as a philanthropist."

Hiroto's eyes were as hard as flint. "I - I -" He collected his wits and rose to his feet. "Get out," he said. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh?" Tora made no move whatsoever to get up.

Hiroto reached for the phone again but did not pick it. Tora could see his hand shake, just a little. "I told you to get out," Hiroto said. His attempt at sounding authoritative did not sound too convincing. "

"You can settle this with me, or you can settle this with the media," Tora drawled.

DC Dining had been going through a good patch for the past few years. Much of its success depended upon Hiroto's reputation as an honest, fair and respectful man. It was a reputation he needed to survive in the market. For a few moments, all Hiroto could do was imagine his life's work crashing around him. Then his eyes hardened. "You have no proof whatsoever," he said. "_None_."

"I'm pleased to tell you that you're mistaken." Tora straightened to meet Christian's eye. "Even if I hadn't had proof, a meeting with just one journalist is all I would have to do to make sure the media digs up as much proof as is necessary."

Hiroto's eyes had a wild look to them now. "I won't let you leave this pla -"

"You think I was foolish enough not to let anyone know where I was headed?" Tora raised an eyebrow in a manner that suggested he was stunned at Hiroto's foolish assumption. In other words, Tora lied with perfect ease. "There are enough people who know where I am for your business to end by tonight if I - shall we say? - disappear."

There were a few moments in which Hiroto realized that the one thing he had been scared would come out and ruin all he had ever achieved, had come out. Not into the open, but close enough. He sat down and when he spoke, his voice was curt. "What do you want?" He demanded. "What can you gain from this? You can't want anything materialistic."

"That." Tora smiled, a sharp smile. "Is my business." He paused for a moment. "You knew your brother had a daughter. You knew he died. You had the resources to help her. Why didn't you?"

"You don't understand any of it." Hiroto felt exhausted. Past asking trivial questions such as _how_ the young man had found it. "He married beneath him. He was disowned. His daughter -"

"Your _niece_." Tora's voice had a dangerous edge to it. "How did you expect her to live on her own?"

"She was smart. She had a job." Christian fiddled with his cellphone and muttered under his breath. "I was sure she could take care of herself. If I had thought she couldn't, I would have offered to help her. In a discrete fashion, of course. I didn't want to be associated with her. Not that I'm biased," he added at once, his voice growing both louder and defensive. "It's just that her sense of how things are done.. Jiro raised her to be like him and his wife. What kind of girl willingly works in a maid cafe? _Enjoys_ her work? It's disgracef -"

"What did you say?" Tora asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. He had no time to be surprised at the flash of anger he felt. Hiroto had already begun to speak again.

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it!" He hurried on, realizing his mistake. "Of course not, of course n.." He sighed, aborted the attempt to cover up his mistake and looked up at Tora. "Let's get this straight. You want something from me. I might be willing to give it to you. What is it?"

"Want." Tora's voice was a drawl. "Is not a word that applies to me." He rose to his feet; noticing (and ignoring) as he did so, the mixture of concern and surprise on Hiroto's face. "You will contact her. You will apologize for not contacting her before. From now, you will treat her as you would treat a niece. Is that understood?"

Hiroto's eyes narrowed. "You can't." His voice had gone cold. "Order me like that."

"I believe you're forgetting how things stand at the moment." Tora took a step forward, hands in the pockets of his slacks, and looked down at the man. "If you don't agree to do as I direct, there's a good chance your could-be empire is going to crumble to the point where you'd wish you'd never dreamed of it."

Hiroto flinched. "I couldn't possibly associate with someone like h -"

"You don't know." Tora's voice was soft. Dangerous. "A damn thing about her."

Hiroto opened his mouth... and then he closed it. There was something like soft, cold threat in Tora's voice, the kind of threat that could not and - Hiroto realized - would not mean well for him. Seconds elapsed and then the older man rose to his feet, too. "Fine," he said, his voice cool. "But what proof do I have that if I keep these terms and conditions, you won't... blackmail me again?"

"That is entirely your problem," Tora drawled. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

It had never occurred to Hiroto Zentaro that Tora Igarashi would not offer proof that he would keep his side of the bargain; and the realization hit him like a bucketful of ice-cold water. "Wait!" He said, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. "You can't do that! You can't -"

"Two days." Hand on the doorknob, Tora turned around. "If you haven't contacted her within two days, the story goes to the press."

"I'd -" Hiroto glared. "I'd deny it."

"Oh?" Tora held up his right hand. It took Hiroto half a second to realize what he held in his hand: a hand-sized camcorder. "I'm afraid that would be hard to do that, once the newspapers have hold of this."

For the first time in the past couple of years, Hiroto Zentaro felt he might break out into a cold sweat. Then the years of training - the businessman persona - the knack for split-second decisions - kicked in. "You wouldn't do that." He said, voice soft. That girl had to mean something to the heir, if he was willing to go that far for her. "If this conversation goes public, there are going to be repercussions for her." He shrugged, the shrug of a man who refuses to be intimidated. "The wrong sort of attention. Unwanted attention."

"And you think -" Tora's smile was amused. "That I care about that?"

For the first time that night, Hiroto Zentaro realized how truly outmatched he was.

-;-

"In honour of my acceptance to Tokyo University?" Kurumi Kaishu held her cellphone closer to her ear, her eyebrows raised and her voice just the right amount of doubtful.

"Indeed." Genkei's voice was all sophisticated charm. "You will be there, I hope? Tora looks forward to seeing you."

Tora, Kurumi thought, does nothing of that kind. "Of course. I couldn't possibly miss an event you and Mina-san arrange for me." Her smile showed in her voice. Until, of course, the call had been ended. The moment it was, Kurumi leaned against a pillow, a frown etched on her face. Genkei Igarashi was up to something. She suspected it had to do with bringing her and Tora together. Whatever hurt Marjani, tended to please Genkei; and Genkei had been a little too kind to her since she and Marjani had been engaged. She doubted Tora had any knowledge of the dance he was looking "forward to seeing" her at.

That, however, was fine. Genkei could have his plans.

It didn't matter, when she had her own.

-;-

Tora leaned back in the chair, his hands folded behind his head. Evening light streamed into the room, drowning one side of him in pale, almost bluish shadow.

Once Zentaro contacted her, she would know - or at least suspect - that he knew her secret. He could imagine the panic that that was likely to cause her. The time he had spent tracking down her relatives had, of course, consumed time he could have spent doing far better things; but he had no doubt that her reaction would be worth it. She'd challenged him, and he had no intention whatsoever of letting her live in peace until she accepted he was better than her. There was just that something about her - the air of total defiance; the refusal to be intimidated; the habit of saying more than any sensible person would - that made him want to _hear_ her admit it. To kiss the little spitfire into silence. Dominate her, in general.

He glanced at the ripped script on his desk. Her declaration that she was no longer part of the play hadn't worried him. He had expected it, but later rather than sooner. That she had given up so soon, amused him. It opened all kinds of new avenues for manipulation which, he supposed, wasn't something that had occurred to her.

Then again, what else could he expect from someone who had donned a wig and contacts and marched into the Kasukage Dojo with the firm believe that she wouldn't be recognized?

The knock on the door made him shake his thoughts off.

"Come in."

It didn't surprise him when the door opened, to reveal his father. "Your mother has decided to throw a dance in honour of Kurumi's acceptance to the University of Tokyo." That was plain Genkei. Brief. Exact. To-the-point. With his father, Tora was aware, there was no beating about the bush. "Both of us expect to see you there."

"Do you also expect me to escort Kurumi?" Tora smirked.

"That goes without saying."

"It must." His voice was not pleasant. "Have taken a few years off your life to invite Marjani."

Genkei's eyes darkened with anger. "If you speak like that to me, again –"

Tora rose to his feet. "I'll attend."

Genkei's eyes narrowed. He knew his son, and he knew it was as unlike Tora as possible to agree to something he would rather not agree to. Unless, of course, there were benefits. "On what condition?" He asked, not without coldness.

"There's someone else I want to see there." Hands pockets, Tora leaned against the desk. The light threw his features - the golden eyes, the straight nose, the strong jaw - into sharp relief. He could just imagine how entertaining this was going to be. "Her name is Sarakshi Ishin."

_And heaven help you, Genkei Igarashi_.

-;-

One hand tucked into a pocket, and her hair rolled into a less-than-neat scarlet bun at the back of her head, Sarakshi stepped outside the diner she worked at... and came to a halt.

There was a limousine parked in front of the place. Black and gleaming, it looked as out-of-place there as an apple in a bowl of strawberries. Perhaps more. The moment she stepped outside, a chauffeur opened one of the picture perfect car doors; and a mand she had seen before, and often, climbed out with practiced grace.

Even if she hadn't seen him in the papers and on the television at such regular intervals, she would have recognized him at once. He was dressed in a power suit, complete with silk tie, diamond pin and gleaming Rolex – and his hair was the exact same shade as Tora Igarashi's.

"Ishin-san?" He stepped up to her without any introduction whatsoever. He had a deep smooth voice, the kind that isn't often warm. "I take it, you know me?"

"May I help you?" Sarakshi asked, eyes narrowed.

"My wife and I are throwing a dance in honour of someone we consider as a daughter." There was no introduction and no foreword. The man dove straight to his point. It took Sarakshi several moments to realize that he was attempting to be informal - and failing spectacularly at it. "We would.. appreciate it if you join us in our time of happiness."

"You would.. appreciate if I join you." Sarakshi repeated drily. "Right. Because it isn't odd at all to go up to random people in the street, and let them know you'd appreciate if they joined you in your time of happiness."

It took Genkei's entire patience – and he had stores of it. Stores – not to let his face contort into rage at the commoner's nerve. "Any friend of Tora's," he said, tone stiff. "Is most welcome to join us."

"I'm afraid you've made a mistake." Sarakshi could feel the contempt in his eyes; and it did not make her feel too warm towards him. "Your son and I are anything but friends. Friends is the one thing we _aren't_."

"He holds you in high esteem," Genkei said, choosing to ignore what she had just said. "I believe you are his co-star –"

"He forced me into being his costar," Sarakshi said drily. "I resigned yesterday."

"But you're one of Miyabigoka's honour students, aren't you?" The rage underneath the forced calm exterior of both Genkei's face and voice was starting to become apparent, now. "You must be an excellent student and, as such, someone we would be pleased to have Tora associate with."

"No, you wouldn't, Mister Igarashi." Sarakshi was quite, quite sure Tora had something to do with the present situation and, had Genkei been even a little less contemptuous than his son, she would have been more sympathetic towards him. Given how clear the man's distaste for her was, however, she didn't feel too amiable. She met his gaze with total calmness. "It's written all over your face. You wouldn't be pleased to have your son associate with someone who works in a maid café to pay her bills."

Genkei was almost shaking with rage, now. "My son and I are both open-minded people –"

"Sure you two are." Sarakshi rose to her full height, which wasn't much, considering she was five feet. Perhaps an inch taller. "Your son forced me to be his co-star, manipulated my best friend into thinking we were going out, and kissed me without my permission. He's bloody open-minded, alright."

Genkei's face seemed to have acquired a fantastic shade of furious purpose. "How dare you –"

There comes a point when you throw cautions to the winds, and say what you want to say; a point when you've had enough, and you aren't going to let anyone, no matter how rich or famous or well-known, intimidate you into anything. For Sarakshi, that point was never _not_ there. "I dare." She slung her jacket over her shoulder. "What are you going to do, bite me?"

She turned on her heel and swept past Genkei; as she did so, she caught sight of Tora, seated in the back of the limo, his window rolled down and his hands folded behind his head in a manner that was all wicked nonchalance.

He was grinning.

* * *

><p><em>I haz been SWAMPED. Exams and assignments and LOTS of events. I am so sorry for leaving everyone hanging for so long. I'm nooot pleased with this chapter, for a number of reasons. :( I've re-written it sooo many times in the past two weeks. *goes to sit in a corner* :| <em>

_In happier news, I'll be good and post the next chapter this week. Which should have Tora/Sarakshi. 'Cause I already miss writing them interacting with each other. *_*  
><em>

_annd. Thank you for all the feedback. It means a whoooole lot to me. Wildfly, NerdPop, sherlin, MARSBARYUM (You get 1000 cool points =p), savannahreads, chizenochi, ulqui x, HMOrange216 and Farynx99 (Welcome baaaack. I hope things get less busy-ish for you. :3)  
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_Ally. *HUG* :3 iBack. *_*  
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_OMGitsMIRL: Thank you. I glad you liking. and I do plan to continue this._

_snow drop: Eep, I'm so glaaaad. I love it when I can make people like Tora. He awesome. :3_

_Lucky kick: Marjani told Sarakshi about Kurumi/ Sarakshi and Kurumi really saw each other for the first time at the end of Chapter eight. =)_

_magicme: Yes. Yees, I am. *updates* =3_

_**R&R -** I always wanted to use that word. It so funny-looking. *givesyouallcookies* :3  
><em>


	13. whose Woods these are, I wish I knew

**c h a p t e r t h i r t e e n  
><strong>

**whose WOODS these are, I wish I knew.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>x<p>

"How dare she – how dare she –"

Tora raised the fork to his mouth, bit into one of the pieces of chicken on the drumstick, and swallowed. "I have no idea," he said, his voice all smooth silk.

"_Bite_ her." Genkei's face was still red with rage. It was a rare sight, one of the rarest of his life, and Tora checked a grin. She was... something else altogether. Then again, he wouldn't have invested time in turning her life upside-down, if he had ever doubted that. "How could a commoner –"

"Your soup is getting cold, darling." Mina Igarashi said. She threw Tora something of a dirty look, as if she knew he had known beforehand what would happen when Genkei and Sarakshi met - which he more or less _had_ - and placed a hand on her husband's forearm.

"Of course." Genkei muttered. His voice was still dark with rage. "Of course, darling. You." His gaze snapped on to Tora. "I had better see you at that dance."

Tora set down the fork. "We had a deal."

Genkei's eyes flashed fire. "If you think -" he hissed. "That I'm going to talk to that cheeky little chit again –"

Cheeky little chit didn't even begin to describe her, Tora thought with half a smirk. "If she's there, I'm there," he said, tone cool. Manipulating people was an art. Manipulating his father, a vicious sort of pleasure. It was like turning what you had been taught, on to the teacher.

Genkei slammed a wallet on the table. "How much do you need to convince her?"

Tora's eyes narrowed. "Don't," his voice was soft. "Talk about her as if she were an object."

It wasn't the fact that Genkei's jaw dropped open, but the fact that Mina's soft eyes snapped on to him as if he had started speaking Greek, that made Tora realize he might have said something that neither of them had expected of him.

-;-

"I can't believe you didn't come, yesterday." Linda's hair hung down, a curtain of sleek golden sheen, as she curved backwards to look up at the rain-washed skies. "You missed the kiss of the week, woman. It was a _sight_."

"I can't believe." Sarakshi - who was sitting next to the blonde on the wall of one of Miyabigoka's gigantic playgrounds, as the latter waited for Sora - said drily. "That I ever thought you might want to know _why_ I didn't come."

"Neither can I." Linda's grin did not... deserve to be called a grin. It was far too beautiful and far too wicked. "One would have thought you'd have gotten to know me at least that much, in the past few weeks."

"Why do I have a feeling that the fact that I don't, says more about you than it does about me?" Sarakshi asked. On some fundamental emotional level, she was glad that Linda didn't want to know: the last thing she wanted, was to have to think of Igarashi. Having skipped school the previous day meant she hadn't had to face him since she had resigned from Daiki's production; but she was aware that, sooner or later, she would have to.

Tora Igarashi was enough of a jerk to make sure of that.

Linda's response to what she had said, was cut short by Sora's arrival. Which, in true Sora Kiyoshi fashion, was the breathless kind.

"Hi Linda-chan! Hi Sarakshi-chan!" Sora's flyaway hair was, as usual, battling with the clip that held it up.. and winning. "Sarakshi-chan! Is it _true_?"

Sarakshi blinked. "It might be?" she offered.

Sora made a face. "Is it true you resigned from the play?" she asked. "Didn't President Igarashi cast you himself? You remember I helped write the play? I was so _glad_ you were going to be the lead, and now people are telling me that you stepped down, and -"

"I did step down." One of the most important things Sarakshi had learned in the past few weeks, was that in nine cases out of ten, Sora continued to speak until she was interrupted. "It's just that..." She paused, not quite sure what the reason she could give, was. That she didn't take kindly to the infamous student council president infiltrating her personal space? It was true, but her battle with Igarashi was like a private battle of wills. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of ever getting to know that she had complained about it. "I'm not the best actress out there, Sora." She gave Sora a wry smile. "Have you ever seen me act?"

"Of course I have!" Sora's voice was indignant. "You were all stiff in the beginning but that was ages ago - and you've gotten so much better at it - and _President Igarashi_ selected you."

The last clause was spoken with a kind of awe; as if it were some sort of honour. Sarakshi realized that, hard as it was to believe, there were people who... looked up to Igarashi. She supposed that, from a safe distance - there had to be a safe distance from Tora Igarashi, even if the concept didn't seem to exist in her life - he did appear to be someone worth looking up to. The grades and looks and riches and that badge. She had never even thought of begrudging him any of that. What she did _had_ thought of begrudging him, was that he got to keep all of it, _despite_ his insufferable attitude.

Linda was good enough to save her the trouble of a response. "Prez Igarashi also selected Kagura for the female lead, last year," the blonde pointed out with a grin. "Ya know what they say about where men's brains really lie."

Sarakshi's cheeks turned an embarrassed pink. "That's a sexist generalization," she muttered.

"It applies to Prez Igarashi at times, doesn't it?" Linda gave a shrug of her fair shoulders. "Mind you, he's a damn beautiful sight for sore eyes, as far as looks go. If I'd gotten that position opposite him? Babe, I'd have kept it." She glanced at her cellphone, realized it was almost time for her and Sora's class, and lowered herself from the wall. Unlike Sarakshi, Linda didn't have to jump to reach the ground - her height ensured that - and she stepped down in a movement that was all sensual laziness. Sarakshi was glad she had no idea how Linda did that - make even her simplest movements, scream "Look at me!" with total ease. Especially considering that the last thing she needed in her life at the moment, was further attention. "You two haven't forgotten about the concert, have you?"

"I'm going to dress up as one of the magical maids." Sora brightened up. "Do you think I should go for a pink outfit? I want to. But I think it's going to look horrible on me. Perhaps I could -"

"Wear pink," Linda said, her voice decisive. Sarakshi had a feeling she would have told Sora to wear blue, if Sora had let on she wanted to wear blue. "It'll look good. You have any plans, Sarakshi?"

Sarakshi frowned. "What sort?"

"What are ya going to wear, woman?"

"Jeans and a t-shirt?"

Linda and Sora stared at her as if she had grown an extra head.

Sarakshi frowned. "What? Is there a dress code?"

Linda sighed. "I should have given up on you a long time ago." She picked up her handbag as the bell rang. "See you in English."

"See you, Sarakshi-chan!" Sora said, attempting one last time to stuff her hair back into its clip... to no avail.

"See you." Sarakshi sat there for a few minutes after Linda and Sora had left. The playground wasn't deserted, but her side of it was emptier than it could have been, because most people had classes. Sarakshi was glad for the peace and quiet. That is, she was glad until she jumped down from the wall, pushed her hair out of her eyes, turned to her right... and met Tora Igarashi's gaze.

He was leaning against a tree, the sole of one shoe resting against the treetrunk, both of his hands in the pockets of his slacks. His tie was undone and a couple of his shirt buttons, open; it couldn't have been cleared that he had been snogging someone, until a while ago.

"You're like a vulture, Igarashi," Sarakshi said, voice cool. She had a feeling he had been watching her for a while, a feeling she did not appreciate. "Sneaking up on people."

"You're like a man, Ishin." His voice was lazy. "Wearing jeans to a cosplaying concert."

That... was new. Sarakshi was sure Linda must have mentioned the concert had something to do with cosplaying, at some point or the other. She had more pressing matters to think of at the moment, however. Such as the last time she had been within two feet's radius of Tora Igarashi. That one time he had decided to push her into a wall and kiss her. Her eyes narrowed. "I suppose eavesdropping on people who want to have no business with you is just another of your admirable qualities?"

"You know what I think you should wear?" Tora said softly, as if she had never spoken. He took a step forward, caught her chin and tilted it upwards. "Your… uwagi."

She'd told herself that incident had never happened. The look in his eyes, though, was pure proof that it had - and that he remembered. Every single moment. Cheeks flaming, she jerked out of his reach and looked down... right at his open buttons and the sculpture-like chest that was visible, because of them being open. Which caused her to take a step backwards.

"Is something wrong, Ishin?" Slowly, lazily, he closed the third button.

It was _not_ her fault that her cheeks were a bright shade of red, Sarakshi reminded herself. "It amazes me that there's always a new level of evilness you can reach," she muttered.

"You should attend," he said lazily.

"Excuse me?"

"The dance." He reached into his pocket, took out an envelope, raised it... and let it go. Instinctively, Sarakshi reached out a hand and caught it before it could fall to the ground. The moment she did, she felt like kicking herself. Damn, that was what he had wanted her to do, wasn't it? Catch the envelope? "I'm inviting you. And I don't think it would be wise..." His eyes locked with her gaze. Their was nothing in them but total sinfulness. Wicked sinfulness. "To turn down an invitation from me."

She looked down at the envelope with a small frown. It was a sophisticated cream in colour; a gorgeous emblem etched in a corner, and the words Tora Igarashi written across one side. "You're almost nice," she said, quite to herself. "When you laugh."

His eyes widened, though she didn't see them. When she looked up, there was a smirk playing around his mouth. "What?" she snapped.

"Nothing." His voice was smooth. "Will I see you there?"

Sarakshi looked up at him. He looked different from the person she had seen in the limo, last night. That had been someone else together. Someone, she realized, who hadn't been wearing a mask. His eyes had been alight; the curve of his mouth, so right. When he laughed, he was someone else altogether. When he laughed, it hit her, he looked _beautiful_.

"Why did your father invite me, last night?"

"He must believe our association would be beneficial." His voice was silk. "Wouldn't you agree, _Sarakshi-chan_?"

"I don't get you, Igarashi." She wanted to know, she realized. She wanted to know it with a passion, almost; because it wasn't often - it wasn't ever - that someone could walk into her and turn it into the aftermath of some mind-boggling, nerve-wrecking earthquake. She wanted to know _who_ he was. Where his principles began. Where his principles ended. If he had principles at all - though, somewhere in her heart, she knew that wasn't a question; not a real one. She hitched the bag slung over her shoulders and turned away from him. "I don't get you at all."

-;-

Marjani stepped out of the Kasukage dojo, and halted in his tracks, his eyes sharp. Genkei Igarashi was standing in front of his car, his lips pursed as if he would rather have been at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, than in his present location.

"Marjani." Genkei's voice was cold, as if the name was some disgusting, festering wound.

"Mr. Igarashi." Marjani voice was polite as he met the man's eyes.

"My wife and I are throwing a dance in honour of Kurumi's acceptance to Tokyou University, tonight." Genkei's voice was uneven; rough. "Since she's your fiancée, we understand you will come."

"I don't think," Marjani's voice betrayed no emotion, positive or negative, whatsoever. "That I can make it."

Genkei Igarashi liked to believe he was a rational man, who did not act without a genuine, valid, free-of-emotions reason... which was why there were certain things in his life, that he refused to think about, much less confront. One of them was his need to mess up Marjani Suoh's life. "I came all the way here," he said, his voice dangerous. "To tell you you are invited, you ungrateful son of a bi –"

"I'm afraid, sir," Marjani's voice was still perfectly polite. "That I don't allow anyone to take that tone when speaking of my mother. My father, however, might be a different matter."

Genkei's eyes widened. "You little..."

"If you'll excuse me."

"Wait."

Marjani turned around. There was a vein throbbing in Genkei's temple. "Would you come if Tora asked?" The man's voice was fierce.

"Tora has no reason to ask me," Marjani said.

"Answer my question," Genkei spat. "Would you come if Tora asked?"

"No." Marjani met Genkei's gaze. There was something in it that made Genkei want to take a step back. "I don't believe I would."

-;-

"Will you come?"

There were no hello's, no how-do-you-do's, no I-am-fine's. Tora strode right into the Suoh's dining room, and asked the question.

"Tora?" Mrs. Suoh set down her spoon and rose to her feet. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, Mrs. Suoh." Tora raised her hands to his lip and brushed his lips over the top of it. She was a beautiful woman, dark-skinned and dark-eyed, and she moved with an oriental elegance that was hard, if not impossible, to define. "I apologize for the inconvenience. Marjani and I just have some... business together."

"Why don't you join us for lunch?" Mrs. Suoh asked, her eyes unsure. She had never been able to decide if Marjani and Tora got along, or not. Placing the two of them in the same room was like attempting to get fire and ice to co-exist in the same space, at the same time. It just didn't work. "You and Marjani can talk after that –"

"It's fine." Marjani rose to his feet. "I'm sure this won't take more than a minute, mother." He strode out of the room and, the moment the two of them were in the lounge, turned to face Tora. "When did you become your father's pet?" He asked, his deep voice dangerous.

"Around the same time you started saying things that could land you into a hospital bed." Tora's voice was sharp as steel; it was clear Marjani's question had hit a nerve.

"Why do you want me there?" Marjani's face was deadpan.

"She's your fiancée." Tora pulled up a chair, turned it around, and sat down. His voice was colder than usual but then, it tended to drop to subzero temperatures each time he faced Marjani. "Shouldn't you be... concerned?"

"Of what?" Marjani raised an eyebrow. "Of you having designs on her? Kurumi can take care of herself." He met Tora's gaze. "What do you want, Tora? You aren't here just because your father asked you to be."

Tora leaned against the chair. There was a pause, a long one.

"How much does this have to do with Sarakshi?" Marjani asked, his voice a drawl.

Tora looked up at him, a smirk lurking about his mouth. "I want the girl there," he said lazily. "Does that piss you off?"

"No," Marjani said. "It doesn't – as you so eloquently put it – piss me off. It amuses me."

Tora's eyes flashed.

Marjani straightened up. "Why do you want her there?"

"Why do I want any girl within a mile's radius of me?" Tora's voice was harsh.

That would, Marjani thought, have been a good response if Tora Igarashi had been treating her like one of the girls he "liked" to have within a mile's radius of him. He didn't. Like hell he didn't. "I'll ask her to come." Marjani's face and voice were both impassive. "If she turns me down, that's your problem."

Tora rose to his feet. He stood there, in front of the door, for several moments. "I didn't think you would agree." His voice was soft.

"I didn't think I would, either." It was hard to tell what Marjani was thinking, when he adopted that tone of voice, but Tora had the feeling that Marjani had reasons of his own to do this. Reasons he was in no mood to share. "Now get out of my house."

-;-

Sarakshi's eyes were alight, when she stepped into the staff area at Crème Maid. The evening had been nice. Full of laughs and music. Fun.

"You make such an adorable Kenshin, Sarakshi-chan~" Manilla squealed.

Sarakshi glanced down at her clothes. She hadn't worn a yukata in a while, so she had enjoyed wearing the purple one that was part of her costume. "I don't think I managed to sound like a man," she grinned, as she took off the hair tier that had been holding her hair up.

"You were perfect~" Manilla squeed. "Have a good~ evening!"

"You too, Manilla-san." Sarakshi gave the manager a smile as she headed off to change. She washed off the fake scar that criss-crossed her cheek; threw on an oversized T-shirt; stepped out of the backdoor... and blinked.

"Marjani?" He was standing against the wall, one hand in the pocket of his jacket, and the other resting against his leg. That she was surprised, would have been an understatement. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you."

The statement was uttered as if it were the most natural thing in the world, for him to wait for her outside the backdoor of a café where she worked. Sarakshi gave him a look. "Right," she said. "You know what? I'll start to be suspicious, right about now."

"I had no idea you trusted me so much," He said drily.

Sarakshi punched him in the arm. Except that punching Marjani Suoh in the arm was like punching a wall: it didn't do much good. "Spill, Suoh. You wouldn't be here without a reason."

The last time someone had attempted to lay a finger on him, outside of a karate match, had been a long, long time ago. The fact that someone over a foot shorter than him had just punched him... was new. He had the urge to pull her to him and kiss her mouth. "The Igarashis' dance." His voice was neutral. "Will you attend?"

"No." Sarakshi said, without any preamble whatsoever.

"Ah?" He raised an eyebrow.

Sarakshi checked a frown. It was getting colder, and she had forgotten to grab a jacket when she had left home. She moved away from him and towards her bike. "Being within five miles of Tora Igarashi is not my cup of tea. I'd rather bang my head repeatedly in some sort of wall." She came to a stop next to the bike and raised her chin to look up at him. "Why don't you ask Kurumi?"

"She chose not to tell me that she's invited." Something like a screen seemed to fall between the two of them; Sarakshi knew she wouldn't be able to read him, even if she tried. "I'm choosing not to tell her."

"What do they say about an eye for an eye making the whole world blind," Sarakshi muttered.

"This isn't about Kurumi." Marjani's tones held no emotions whatsoever. Which was a sign, Sarakshi knew, that he was not in the nicest mood ever. "I'm asking you if you want to come to the dance."

Sarakshi frowned. "Friends don't_ do_ balls, Marjani."

"I see. You wouldn't want me to - how do you put it? Ah, yes - get the wrong idea."

Sarakshi resisted the urge to sigh. He was the old Marjani again, dark and deep-voiced and dangerous-looking. It felt wrong. _She_ felt wrong. It was as if she had forced him to open up; to take a step towards her; and then taken several steps backwards herself. He deserved better from her. "I know you wouldn't," she said, voice quiet. "I just don't want to be there. I wouldn't do it for anyone."

"I see."

"But I would do it for you."

"Woman." His voice was a shade amused. "You can't say things like that and expect me to behave."

Sarakshi grinned as she swung a leg over her bike. "You're not expecting me to wear a dress, are you? Because the last time I wore one, I was Magical Maid Lily."

"You'll shock all the ladies into comas if you turn up in something like _that_."

Sarakshi followed his gaze to her shirt. Considering it was old, a size too large for her, and had the words _Live. Love. Judo_. woven into the bottom left corner.. perhaps he had a point. Which did not mean that she was going to look for an alternative. "I'll take that as a no," she grinned.

Which, she thought as she swung her bike into the street, might be the only good thing to come out of the whole affair.

-;-

There were several things Sarakshi had learned, in the past few weeks.

One of the most important was that if an expensive-looking vehicle had been parked in a place that she frequented and said place was known for being a commoners' hangout... then the vehicle was part of an attempt to further mess up her life.

It was for this reason that the feeling of quiet dread that attacked her stomach on seeing a gleaming Infiniti parked right in front of Utsukushii Creek, did not surprise her.

She climbed off her bike, headed out into the darkness and, right hand clutched around her apartment keys, waited at the foot of the staircase that led up to her apartment for a whole five minutes. With the exception of one of the little kids next to door shouting "Rakshi nee-chaaaaan~" as he ran past, nothing happened. No one approached her. Frowning, Sarakshi climbed the stairs, stepped up to her door... and realized someone was standing there.

He was of average height and had neat, dark hair. There was a reluctant, even uncertain air about him, as if he would rather be eating a live fish, than standing at her door. She frowned, looked up at him... and froze.

He had dark violet eyes.

She would have liked to tell herself that it was a coincidence. Would have, but couldn't. The statistics were against it. It was such a rare eye colour that it would have to be a miracle, to be a coincidence. She knew of just one other person, who had that eye-colour. "Can you please move aside?" She raised her chin and gave the man a look that betrayed no emotion whatsoever. "You're in my way."

The man cleared his throat. "Sarakshi Ishin?" he ventured. "Daughter of Jiro Zentaro?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Mr. Hiroto?"

Hiroto took a surprised step backwards. "How do you know who I am?" He demanded.

She half-turned to face him. She had the same large blue eyes as her mother, Hiroto noticed... and, unlike her mother, there was nothing gentle about them, at least not at the moment. Her gaze was cool. "I hope you can understand that I'm not in the mood to be conversational with you." Voice quiet, she inserted a key into the door-lock. "If you have something legitimate to say, please do. If you don't, please leave."

Hiroto had been furious at worst and uncertain at best about this plan, from the start. He had been sure he would come out of it unscathed, however. He'd been wrong, he realized. For the second time in one week, he had been wrong to the point of the whole thing being ridiculous. Jiro's girl didn't even reach his shoulder... and she was not one someone who would allow anyone to mess with her.

"I apologize," he said. "I realize we just got off on a wrong start -"

"Sixteen years after my birth. How charming." There was no anger in her voice. Just dryness. "I don't like repeating, Mr. Hiroto, but I will if I have to: if you have something legitimate to say, please do. If you don't, please leave."

Hiroto frowned. "I know I should have contacted you when your father... when Jiro died. I didn't. It was wrong of me, but I can't take it back. I would like to make amends."

Sarakshi locked her eyes with his gaze; not because she wanted to, but because she couldn't help it. She'd known her father's brother had the same eye colour; dad had told her that, several times. But she had never thought she would those eyes again. It was more than just stunning: it was overwhelming. "I don't mean to sound unwelcome but..." But what? But his sudden appearance had exhausted her? On an emotional level she didn't want to think about? She let the sentence die. "Please. Go on."

"I understand I should have introduced myself earlier but what's in the past, is in the past. I'd like to support you now. In a discreet fashion, of course. You have to understand that while that isn't something I like, it's something that is vital to the business that I run. If word that I didn't come to you earlier gets out, my reputation as a philanthropist will suffer. My business could be ruined."

"Support." She repeated the word, a frown in her voice. "What kind of support? Emotional? Familial? Monetary?"

Hades, she was blunt. Hiroto looked as taken aback as he felt. "You wouldn't have to be concerned about expenses, anymore. Rent. Food. Clothes. School fees. I'll make sure all of that is looked to. That gives you a chance to be a regular teenager. You won't have to take on disgraceful jobs -"

"Excuse me?"

"The maid café." His voice was dispassionate. "If you're under my care, you wouldn't have to take up such frivolous jobs. You wouldn't have to work in undignified places. I've heard that the place you work at - Clean Maid, is it? - is well-known; but even so, it's still a place where insecure people act out fantasies -"

"It serves themed food and arranges cosplaying events." Sarakshi's voice was cold.

"It all amounts to the same thing, doesn't it?" Hiroto said. "I understand Jiro raised you to be strong. Independent. But I'm sure that even he - I understand he was a bit different. He didn't consider a lot of frivolous things beneath him. Undignified, one could call it -"

"Don't you dare." Her voice was colder than ice. Far colder. "Speak of my father in those terms, again."

Hiroto's eyes widened. She could not be serious. "I don't believe you've been listening." His voice was cool. "I'm offering you an excellent deal. Who else would offer you such a generous part of their rich -"

"You have a lot to learn about me." Sarakshi's voice was cold enough to freeze over several people. "If you think I give a damn about anyone's riches."

Hiroto's eyes narrowed. It was aggravating enough that that Igarashi kid had had no interest in materialistic gain. But that at least, had been understandable: he was an _Igarashi_, for heaven's sake. The little redhead? She could do with some extra dough. "I swear, I've had enough -" The coldness in his voice more than matched the coldness in hers. "Of people who don't give a damn about anyone's riches."

"Glad to know you've met a couple." The words were dry. "Because I sure could do with meeting a few more."

She pushed open the door of her apartment as she said that; and Hiroto realized that she was walking off. "Wait!" He was aware his voice sounded hoarse - pleading, even - but he couldn't bring himself to care. What he knew was that he needed her cooperation. Because if she walked off... so much for all that he had spent years building. "You don't have to give up your job! I know I said I would prefer that but it isn't -"

"Mr. Hiroto." She turned around. In the semi-dark, the expression on her face was both calm and - he realized with the sort of surprise that leaves one startled - calming. "If you're here because you feel a sense of guilt, please don't. I was never one of your responsibilities. And if you can't convince yourself of that? I set you free of any financial obligations you may feel you have towards me."

The door closed behind her with a soft _thud_. Hiroto heard an automatic lock click into place and, for a long, long while, he didn't know whether he was stunned, thrown off balance or relieved.

Then he bent down, slid a business card underneath her door, turned around and walked off.

* * *

><p><em>See? I wuz good and haz updated. :3<em>

_The title of the chapter comes from the line '_Whose woods these are I think I know' in_ Robert Frost's BEAUTIFUL poem "_Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening_." If you haven't read it, you should definitely google it. The Magical Maids come from... episode 24 of the Maid-sama anime. (Which I suppose everyone already knew, but I still wanted to mention it. 'Cause I love that episode.)  
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_Thank you to everyone who took out the time to review. You people awesome. *_* MARSBARYUM, Wildfly, echizenochi, NerdPop, gamma-rae-star, ulqui x, HMOrange216, fateMoon, schnook, MaidSamaFanGirl, QueenieIzzy. Thunk you. and *WAAAAVE* to everyone who has favourited and/ or subscribed - you guys make me happy. *_*  
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_Lucky kick: Aww. I have a crush on Tora, too! xD Yay us! *high five*_

_ShewillbeUM: Thunk you. iGlad you think so. *_*_

_Reviews and constructive criticism welcome/ appreciated/ will get you virtual cupcakes.  
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	14. Friction into fire

**c h a p t e r f o u r t e e n  
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**FRICTION into fire.  
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Well. She could be sure, Sarakshi thought with a bit of an eye roll, of at least one thing tonight: the people in the hall were going to talk about her for weeks to come.

"Do those women have to do the whole horrified eyes thing each time they look at me?" She'd stepped into the hall _half_ a minute ago so the gigantic amount of (unpleasant) attention she had generated so far, was ridiculous. She threw Marjani a look, as if it was all his fault. He raised an eyebrow in response. "I look... different. I get it."

"You look beautiful."

Her eyes widened at the unexpected compliment. "You can't just say things like that out of the blue!" She said, crossing her arms against her chest.

"You're welcome." His tone was sarcastic.

She grinned and placed the tip of her five inch heel on top of his shoe. She'd intended to press down on it. Just her luck that she stumbled in the process.

-;-

Tora had expected to be amused, to see her there. When he caught sight of her, however, his eyes widened.

She was bent over Marjani's arm, as if she had been about to trip and he had caught her wrist to balance her. Her hair was swept off her neck, into a loose, scarlet chignon that let her bangs fall into her eyes. She was wearing deep-red stilettos... and old jeans and a plain, black t-shirt.

Good Lord, she was like a man. She was going to stun the rest of the ladies into horror.

"Woman. Have you ever worn high heels before?" Marjani's voice was dry.

"Of course I have." Sarakshi – who had decided to ignore the fact that a girl in a flowing, orange gown had just skirted past her in rather horrified fashion – said. "Just not... a pair this high," she added, in a bit of a mutter.

"Right." He sounded beyond sarcastic.

Sarakshi gave him a look. "Aren't you an amazing help," she muttered, surveying her shoes. The red heels had been a bit of a temptation. Perhaps an unwise one. She was sure, however, that she could make the most of them. She took a step forward and raised her chin to look up at him. "See? I can walk in these." She took another two steps, almost skidded across the floor, and met Marjani's wry grin. "Fine, fine," she said. "I get it. Bad choice."

With a shake of her head, she kicked off the heels, leaned down, grabbed them and shouldered them like a sack of potatoes. "I have to admit, that's much better," she said. Then she looked up, right into Marjani's frozen face, and realized she might have done something that might not pass for too acceptable in the present circumstances. Her cheeks warmed and she would have dropped the heels, if a voice had not said,

"Marjani." Tora's voice was a little too amused to be a welcome distraction. "_Sarakshi_. What a… pleasant surprise."

Lean and tall and in a tuxedo, his cheekbones were conspicuous, his eyes deep and dark, his hair brushed to perfection. He looked like he had stepped out of a men's fashion magazine – Elegant. Gorgeous. Immaculate. Sarakshi realized his gaze was lingering on the heels in her left hand in a manner that was all sinful amusement. "Igarashi," she said drily. "No surprise at all." There was laughter in his eyes, damn it. Wicked laughter. She crossed her arms against her chest, the heels coming to a rest against it. "Do you want something?"

"Do allow me to show you two to your table."

It irked her that, for someone who hadn't even bothered to be a consistent part of the receiving line, he sounded nothing but cultured. Had the voice of a host. She was quite, quite sure that the reason he had chosen to escort them to their table himself, had as much to do with his need to vex her, as with Marjani's importance in whatever social circles those two were part of. "No," she said, pointblank.

"You do realize," Tora's voice was the politest thing in the world. "That you're here as Marjani's date, don't you?"

Sarakshi felt her eyes widen. She had never thought of it, in that manner. Her actions might or might not bother Marjani but the fact was, whatever she said and did here, would reflect upon him. The son of one of those families to whom appearances mattered. Had to matter.

"It would be extraordinarily selfish of you, wouldn't it now, to think only of yourself."

"Tora." Marjani said the name as if it were a warning.

"I apologize." Sarakshi uncrossed her arms to place a hand on Marjani's forearm. It was an instinctive act: she could never have claimed she believed it would calm him. She set the heels down, slipped her feet into them, and met Igarashi's gaze. "Please do."

"Of course." Tora's voice was oh-so-cultured.

"You're letting him manipulate you." Marjani's tone as Tora stepped aside, was lower than usual. Perhaps more curt, too. "Has it ever occurred to you that it might not matter to me what these people think?"

"Is that why you asked me to come?" Sarakshi asked, drily. "So you could flout your disregard for custom?"

She felt him still, a dangerous kind of stillness, and realized at once that she had said something quite, quite wrong. "Forget it," she said, voice quiet. "I doubt it's a good idea to have a conversation within ten feet of this man –" she pointed to Tora's back "– anyway." You couldn't escape the nagging, lingering feeling that no matter how much you lowered your voice, he _would_ hear – and, it went without saying, file away what he did hear, for future malicious reference.

"Don't you just seem full of knowledge, these days." Marjani's voice – as the two of them came to a halt and he pulled up a chair for her – carried a certain amount of dryness.

"You sure sound like a happy camper," Sarakshi muttered. She placed a hand on the back of the chair and looked across it, at Igarashi. She had intended to ask him if he would leave them alone _now_, but an exclamation of "Tora! Mr. Williams has been asking about you!" caused her to blink. Her eyes moved off him… and on to a tall girl in pencil heels at the same as the said girl's eyes moved on to her.

Time seemed to stop.

Kurumi Kaishu's gaze swept past Marjani and on to her, with what seemed like infinite slowness. Sarakshi knew at once that, while his presence had been expected, hers had not. For one fierce second, Kurumi's expression was dark with rage. Then it was replaced with a cool smile.

"Sarakshi." Kurumi's intonation sounded as sweet as it sounded fake. Like plastic sugar. "I had no idea you were invited. How unusual. Please. Do sit."

Unusual. Sarakshi resisted the urge to mutter, _I'm quite sure it is_. "Of course," she said, her smile far more real than Kurumi's had been. "Congratulations on clearing the exam. I heard you did great."

"I was expected to. I'm sure Marjani told you that, too." Kurumi's gaze switched to Marjani, her words just a little too sweet. "You two _do_ seem like the best of friends."

Marjani's eyes flickered. "I'm afraid I didn't."

His voice was polite. Not cold. Not harsh. Kurumi's eyes narrowed, however. "I see," she said. "Well, do have fun." She hooked an arm beneath Tora's and leaned against him. "We will, won't we, Tora?"

"Of course," Tora said. "I am… quite sure we will."

The air seemed to have thickened. It was almost as if one could touch the tension in the air, Sarakshi thought, if one tried. "You plan to have fun. We get the point," she muttered, under her breath. She hadn't intended to be heard. Except that, if the smirk playing around Igarashi's mouth was anything to go by, he _had_ heard. She resisted the urge to scowl at him. _Focus_, she reminded herself. _Focus on the music.  
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"I suppose we'll see you later, then," Kurumi announced. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind an ear, and smiled the sort of smile that wouldn't have fooled a teacup. "Tora and I…" Her eyes met Marjani's. "Have to open the dance. Do have fun."

She whisked Igarashi off as if he were some sort of prized possession. Or at least, tried to: it was an impossible to task to even pretend to have an iota of control over a situation – let alone have an iota of control in _actual _– if said situation involved Tora Igarashi. Sarakshi watched the two of them leave, a slight frown on her face.

"You do realize that she wants -" Her voice was soft. In the distance, she could see Igarashi in conversation with several young ladies, none of whom seemed in any hurry to leave his side. Kurumi? She'd taken to talking to one of them and, Sarakshi realized, the brunette didn't seem to mind her predicament in the least. "Your attention, don't you?"

Marjani held out a hand. "Shall we dance?"

She ought to have known it wasn't a subject he would want to discuss, much less discuss. She smiled, a wry sort of smile, and looked down at her heels. "Does it look like I can?"

"Yes," he grinned. "Yes, it does."

-;-

She'd kicked off the stilettos to dance and, now that she had them on again, she was finding it more than just a little disorienting to walk. Perhaps, Sarakshi thought as she exited the dance hall and left the beat of the music behind her, she ought to have let Marjani get her the drink, after all.

_That, Sarakshi Ishin, would have saved you a heap of trouble._

Coming to a less-than-graceful halt next to one of the juice bars, Sarakshi shook her head. She was quite sure she'd never seen half of the drinks it sported, before. She supposed she could ask someone where she could get a plain flask of water. The trouble was, even if she could convince someone to answer her question… no one else was there.

"May I help you?" A voice breathed in her ear.

Sarakshi jumped several inches into the air, and had to grab the edge of the counter to right herself. "Don't creep up on me, Igarashi!" She scowled.

"What would you rather I do?" He took a step forward, just a little too close. She stepped back at once, stumbled as anyone could have told she would, and grabbed the first thing she could to make sure she did not fall – the front of his coat.

"I…" She unclenched her hand at once, the movement both quick and flustered. "I didn't mean to…"

You would have thought, Tora thought, that she would have been certain she owed him no apologies. Not ever, not after how he treated her. How could she think of him, how the _hell _could she think of him, as just another individual? Someone she was willing to offer all that she offered people who didn't act like he did, towards her? It irked him. Her calm, her contentment, her total lack of bias. He backed her into the wall, the movement sudden, even curt, his hands coming to rest on either side of her head. "This, perhaps?" He leaned down and cut her off with perfect ease, altogether ignoring her scattered response.

His gaze was intense. So intense, it startled her. "Back off," she whispered. "Back off, Igarashi."

"Intimidated?" He leaned down, his eyes hard. "You should be, Ishin. Or should I say, _Zentaro_."

Her eyes widened. In some corner of her mind that she hadn't wanted to acknowledge, she had known all along. It had been too much of a coincidence for Hiroto to turn up a couple of nights after Igarashi had told her he could dig into her past, if he wanted to. "I shouldn't have thought." Her voice was quiet. "That you would at least not attempt to make a mockery out of my memories."

"It amuses me how you still believe I have principles, commoner." There was a smirk playing about his mouth; a cold smirk. She was still resting her hand against his chest. The fact that she had forgotten about it – the knowledge that it didn't _matter_ to her – made him want to make her realize it. "I wouldn't want you to claim you lose to me because you don't have the same _advantages._"

"I wouldn't have." She looked down, a frown in her voice. "You should have known I would never have agreed to his terms."

His eyes flickered. She didn't see the hint of surprise in them. "You turned him down."

It was a question, not a statement. "I can't change what I believe in. Least of all –" she rubbed a spot on her shoulder in an absent-minded sort of manner – "For materialistic gain. It doesn't matter." She looked up. In the yellow-brown lighting, his eyes looked darker than usual. More intense. Thoughtful? Contemplative? Irked? She couldn't be sure but the knowledge that she wanted to know, surprised her.

"We all know I'm stunning." His voice was a drawl. "But staring at me isn't going to help your case, Ishin. You're still…" He leaned down. "On the wrong side of an Igarashi."

She raised her chin, a frown on her face. Some of his hair fell into his eyes with a casual elegance, the kind of casual elegance that people could kill for. He _was_, she realized with a jolt of surprise, stunning. Could perfection and absolute, total imperfection co-exist? How could someone, she thought, be so perfect and so _flawed_? She had the urge to reach out a hand and touch his cheek. Make sure he was real. Make sure he _could_ be real.

Tora's eyes narrowed. There was a mixture of surprise and gentleness in her eyes. No fierce response whatsoever. "Ishin," he drawled lazily. "I understand the need, but now might not be the best time to daydream about me."

Her cheeks flushed. "With an ego the size of yours, I'm surprised you can still walk," she snapped. Which, she realized, was what he had wanted her to do. Rise to the bait. She folded her arms across her chest. "You were wrong, earlier. I don't believe you have principles." There was defiance in her voice: she would not give him the reaction he wanted from her. "I know you have them. You –"

She talked too much. He leaned down and placed his lips on hers. He smelled of lemon and cologne… and her voice was gone. Gone. "I like your shoes," he said, against her lips.

How someone could make that sound suggestive, even explicit, she had no idea. She took a step backwards, met the wall, and broke free of him. "Igarashi." She was aware her cheeks were a bright red. "If you come within a mile's radius of me again, so help me I will kick your –"

He pulled her to him. She jerked back, tottered, stumbled. He caught her, the action reflexive, something unpracticed, before she could fall. There was a mixture of emotions on her face - reflexive gratefulness and practiced fierceness in equal measure - as if she couldn't decide whether to be furious or thankful. _Naïve_, he thought. She was beyond naïve if she could even think of being grateful, in the present situation. How could someone like her be so sure, so in peace, so _content_? What did she have to be sure or peaceful or contented about? He placed a hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing against it in a touch so light it almost wasn't, and raised her face to his. There was nothing curt about the gesture. It was the kind of instinctive gesture that asks you if you are alright. Even if, Sarakshi realized, it was done in the same manner as all of his other actions – a manner that said he was in-charge.

"Dance with me," he said.

Not will you dance with me, but dance with me. Not a question, not a request, but a demand. "No," she said. His hand had a hard, casual sort of strength. It was warm. Too warm for words. She was too stunned – stunned because the touch wasn't harsh or cold or both – to react. She hated the ambivalence. _His_ ambivalence. She wanted to shake him and tell him he couldn't both harass and protect someone. "Go…" Her voice was full of gravel. She cleared her throat. _React, _she told herself. _React. _She reached up to remove his hand from her cheek. "Go harass someone else."

She'd placed her hand on his to remove it from her cheek. He caught it and lowered it. "Is that the best way to talk to someone who knows your family secrets?" He asked, the question a drawl.

How could he change so fast? With such suddenness? She didn't get him. Lord, she didn't get him. "Don't." Her voice was soft. "Try to threaten me."

"When I decide to threaten you, Ishin." His eyes locked with hers. "You won't be in a position to refuse my demands."

Eyes narrowed, she shoved him back. Hard.

"Your speed is the sole advantage you have against me, and you lost that the moment you let your emotions take over." He blocked the attack, caught her wrists, and locked her into place. "Did I ever tell you?" There was something devilish in his eyes. Beyond devilish. "Pinning techniques are my... specialty."

"Did I ever tell you?" Sarakshi's throat felt dry. "I... hate you."

He grinned. "I like your shoes. Just... your shoes."

Her cheeks flushed at the implication in his voice. "Pervert," she snapped.

He leaned down and placed his lips next to ear. "You don't know the half of it," he breathed, in a voice that was all silk.

Twisting free of his grip, Sarakshi turned around and, cheeks still crimson, sped out of the place.

-;-

It wasn't hard to spot Marjani. He was in conversation with someone she neither knew nor recognized and, even though he was doing nothing more prominent than standing next to a wall and talking to an older man, he still stood out. The older man departed several moments before she reached them and, sticking her hands into the pockets of her jeans, Sarakshi smiled up at him.

"Yo," she said.

"Kurumi or Tora?" Marjani asked, his voice brisk.

Sarakshi crossed her arms against her chest. "You know I hate that, right?" she asked. "You're not supposed to be able to see through me, so easily."

"You're not supposed to wear your emotions on your sleeves."

It occurred to Sarakshi that Marjani Suoh had the deepest voice she had ever heard. There was something low and male and conspicuous about it. The kind of voice that made one want to listen; though whether out of fear or respect or admiration, she couldn't have said. _The kind of voice people fall for._ She tilted her face to look up at him, a frown creasing her lips. "I don't suppose you've ever realized it," she muttered.

In the light of the chandeliers, her hair seemed like scarlet silk. He could have caught her wrist and pulled her to him. He should have. It goes without saying that Marjani didn't. "Do enlighten me," he drawled.

"Have either of you seen Tora?" The voice, just a little too loud and just a little too cheerful, caused both of them to look up. Kurumi stood there, wearing a smile that did not reach her eyes. She would have, Sarakshi thought, looked beautiful if it had. She had that curled-at-the-tips black hair that falls like a waterfall, and makes fair skin look fairer. Her blue dress was an off-the-shoulder one, sparkling, westernized, elegant. "He went to get me a drink. We've been dancing all night."

"No." Marjani's voice was soft. "I'm glad to know you've been having a good time."

"Excellent," Kurumi said. There was just a little too much emphasis on the word. Sarakshi felt like she had stepped into the middle of a fire – a stifling, sweltering, suffocating one. "I've been having an amazing time with Tora."

"Indeed." Tora appeared at her side, holding up a wineglass. He looked like the picture of perfection, all immaculate charm; and as he handed Kurumi the wineglass, it irked Sarakshi that he looked at total ease. Looked as if nothing had just happened. Nothing did happen, you idiot, she told herself. _Nothing happened._

Except that she would have expected nothing to feel less breathless.

"Why don't we join Marjani and Sarakshi?" Kurumi's fingers encircled Tora's upper arm. "You two don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not." Marjani said. His voice and expression were both neutral: it was impossible to know what he felt. "Perhaps we should sit."

Sarakshi was quite, quite sure she was not imagining the tension in the atmosphere. It seemed to have become part of the air, invisible but there. The scene seemed to unfold in front of her like an rehearsed act: chairs pulled up, steps taken, people seated. Tora passed her as he reached out to pull up a chair and, in the fleeting moment he was right next to her, his voice misted her ear, slow and husky and wicked.

"I hope your shoes haven't been giving you trouble on the dance floor, Ishin."

She jerked back, her cheeks red. "No," she said, her voice both curt and audible.

He smirked.

"Did I miss something?" Kurumi's eyes flickered to the two of them. Sarakshi saw her gaze follow Tora's to her heels. "Those are beautiful heels," she said. "I never thought you'd be the kind of girl to wear stilettos, though. I was telling Tora, just now. Stilettos _are_ so expensive."

Sarakshi could see Marjani's eyes. There was no emotion whatsoever in them, which meant he was mad. Mad. "They're not that expensive," she said drily.

"Of course. I shouldn't have expected yours to be." Kurumi leaned against Tora. The touch was too forceful to be casual. Igarashi responded to it with perfect ease. His arm slid around Kurumi, his hand coming to a rest against her midriff. For reasons she could not have explained if she had tried, his action irked Sarakshi more than Kurumi's mock sweet statement. "You must have gotten them cheap somewhere. Do tell me all about it. I haven't had the chance to talk much tonight. Tora and I were too busy dancing. Weren't we, Tora?"

She intertwined her fingers with Igarashi's, and Sarakshi had had enough.

"If you'll excuse me, for a moment." Her voice was soft. Even. Neither a whisper, nor raised. She rose to her feet, stepped around her chair, turned on her heel… and paused as Marjani placed a hand on her forearm. It was what she had done earlier, she realized. Placed a hand on his forearm. Her action had been meant to calm, however; his was questioning.

"I just need to…" She could feel Kurumi's gaze on the hand on her forearm. She motioned, a vague sort of motion, towards the crowd. "I need a minute." _On my own._

Their eyes met. Held. Then he nodded. "I see." He removed his hand and, as Sarakshi left, turned around to look at Kurumi. "Is something the matter?"

"I suppose you need a minute, too?" Kurumi's voice was cold.

His gaze met hers. Calm. Even. "I do believe I do," he said softly.

-;-

The ladies' room was done in pale pinks. Sarakshi leaned over the painted sink, and eyed the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, that of a rather short sixteen year old sporting a scarlet chignon, a loose t-shirt, and a giant frown.

_What on earth is wrong with you, Sarakshi Ishin?_ She ought to have come to terms with Kurumi's need to flaunt all that she had. Including, Sarakshi thought with a scowl, the fact that the brunette had been glued to a willing Tora Igarashi all night. If the knowledge didn't affect Marjani, it had no right whatsoever to affect her. There was no reason to feel like grabbing Kurumi and giving her a good shake.

No reason, she repeated to herself several, before stepping out into the corridor.

It was – in abrupt contrast to the ladies' room – all in blues and whites. Doors rang along it, dark and polished, one half-open. She'd never intended to look inside. It was just that she was surprised that it was open and the mild surprise, made her pause at it for a second.

Pause and freeze at the scene that met her.

Kurumi was lying on a couch, her arms hooked around Tora's neck, the straps of her dress pushed down. The coat he had been wearing earlier had been tossed on to the floor, to reveal an unbuttoned shirt. His eyes were dark – frustrated almost, she thought – as he leaned down to kiss her.

Both of them saw her at the same time.

Sarakshi felt like she was standing at the edge of a precipice, like she was falling off a cliff, like she couldn't breathe. "I didn't know," she said, taking a step backwards. "I didn't - You should have closed -"

"Sarakshi?" The door swung open, and Marjani stepped inside. "How long is a minute, woman? I was starting to get –"

He broke off.

It was like time had decided to come to a grinding, crunching, thudding halt. Marjani took the scene in and, for a moment that seemed to last for a week, there was pindrop silence in the room. Then Tora sat dup, leaning back against the couch, one arm resting atop its back. "Ruin the party, why don't you?" he said, his voice lazy. "Who else is here for a viewing?"

Sarakshi swallowed the lump in her throat and turned on her heel. The door closed behind her with a soft _thud_.

-;-

Marjani knew he ought to go after her. But he also knew that he needed to do something else here. Sometimes, life gives you difficult choices and you have to prioritize.

He prioritized.

"We need to talk." He met Tora's gaze, his own calm.

Kurumi's eyes widened. She sat up, her hair streaming down her back in rumpled, dark tangles, her hands knotting into fierce fists.

"Do you have," her voice was furious. "Nothing to say to me?"

"Should I?" Marjani's eyes held no emotion whatsoever.

It was that girl. That damned common _witch_. "You aren't mad?" Kurumi's eyes narrowed. "Why the hell aren't you mad?"

"You can make your own choices -" His gaze swept off Tora and on to her. "- as much as I can. If you and Tora have feelings for each other, by all means pursue them. I see no reason to hold you back."

"That slut. That _slut_." Kurumi sprang to her feet. She pushed past him to leave the room; banging the door shut behind her with as much force as she could muster.

Marjani turned to Tora, who was still sitting as he had been, one arm resting over the back of the sofa, the other arm draped on the armrest. When he spoke, his voice was dangerous.

"What the hell were you doing, kissing my fiancée?"

-;-

The night was cool. Sarakshi stood on the edge of the garden path, in a shower of darkness and shadow, the rise and fall of her chest quick. Not controlled. Her stomach felt leaden, as if she had swallowed a large amount of cold, harsh metal.

What was wrong with her? What the heck was wrong with her?

She hated it. She hated the ambivalence, how she both hated and did not hate him. _You're supposed to be a manipulative jerk, Igarashi. _You're not supposed to protect._ You're not supposed to care. Why do you go out of your way to help me out, as often as you go out of your way to suck me into trouble?_

Strong arms pinned her arms behind her back.

Eyes widening, Sarakshi twisted free. Her attacker came into clear view: masked, not tall, and muscular. Kurumi, Marjani, Igarashi, the dance. It all went out of her mind in one sudden instant. It never occurred to her to call for help. She felt tranquil, level-headed and in control; the sudden calm was exhilarating. She aimed a kick at the man; he blocked. The two of them circled each other, the man now with a wariness that suggested he hadn't expected resistance. She could feel his nervousness: he had not wanted to attract attention.

"Too bad for you," she said. "You're going down like a –"

Someone kicked her shoes from behind.

She knew she had lost, even before she did. The heels were tall and pencil-sharp and dangerous; she went out like a candle in the wind, her ankle spraining as she toppled over. Someone caught her arm, twisting it behind her back. The person who had aimed for her shoes.

"I told you," Kurumi's voice was cold. "To stay away from Marjani Suoh."

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_Thank you for all the feedback. ShewillbeUM, Farynx99, gamma-rae-star, yourhappyplace, Trickster707, Tora fan, ulqui x. Thunks thunks. 3  
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_Twillk. I honestly don't know, either. -_-_

_Lucky kick. Update be here. ^_^ The next update will be out sometime next week. Enjoy.  
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_magicme. Hehe. *updates* =3_

_With this chapter, _Seduction _haz crossed 70K words. So many woords. I'm sort of amazed. *_*_

_I'm sure there was something else I wanted to say, but I really can't remember it now. ah well. It's well past 3 AM and I have a Calculus exam tomorrow. I should go to sleep. *falls asleep on the keyboard*_

_(Reviews are love.)  
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	15. as certain Dark things are loved

**c h a p t e r f i f t e e n**

**as certain DARK things are loved.  
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Tora rose to his feet, the action light and elegant. There was nothing light about his voice when he spoke, however; it held an edge of uncharacteristic seriousness.

"I was under the impression," he said softly. "That you were in love with Sarakshi Ishin."

"I am," Marjani said, voice curt. The blunt response made Tora's eyes flicker. "I'm asking what _you_ think you were doing, kissing my fiancée."

Tora buttoned up his shirt, as if buttoning up your shirt in front of someone whose fiancée you had just been found making out with, was the most natural thing in the world. "She wanted me," he said, his voice dismissive. "I kissed her."

"Damn it, she didn't want you." Marjani said, tone dark.

Tora raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Don't tell me." Marjani's voice was soft. "That you couldn't tell."

"She wanted you to notice her. She wanted me to ensure that happened. Don't tell me that you couldn't tell."

"You expect me to believe." Marjani's mouth lifted up in a smile that was anything but amused. "That you let yourself be manipulated by Kurumi Kaishu?"

Tora's eyes flashed. "What." His voice had a dangerous edge to it, now. "Do you want to say? You don't like the girl. Why flog a dead horse?"

"Why direct what you feel for another girl," Marjani's voice was curt. "On Kurumi Kaishu."

"Don't speak in riddles."

"Others." Marjani's voice was calm. Even. "Might not notice." _And others don't know you, you fool. People look at you. You look at them, too. But you don't see them; not as people. She looks at you, and you see her. Every time. You see what I see in her, too. Each bit of it. Each scorching, wrecking, frustrating bit of it. _

"I said." Tora's eyes met him, both warning and challenging. "Don't speak in riddles."

"Does it piss you off that she prefers me over you?"

"I have no idea." Tora's voice was soft. Soft, and dangerous. "What you are talking about."

"I do believe I asked the wrong question," Marjani said, voice curt. "Let me rephrase it: _why _does it piss you off that she prefers me over you? That she would rather dance with me, than you? Hold my hand, than yours?"

In the process of leaning down to pick up the coat he had tossed on to the floor earlier… Tora paused. He straightened, the action slow - graceful - beyond threatening - and met Marjani's gaze.

"How much have you had to drink?" He asked coldly.

"Is it because she brings out your worst and your best?" Marjani leaned against the frame of the door, gazing ahead of him as if it were all a bit of a joke, and sounding as if it were anything but. "Because she loves who she is? Because she refuses to be intimidated by anyone? Because –" His eyes flickered – "She stands up to you?"

"Marjani." Tora's voice was a warning, and not a nice one at that.

Marjani ignored him. "Because she isn't afraid to speak her mind, no matter who she faces? Because she always finds the good in life and people? Is it because she makes you realize what being content is? Because she sees past the façade and notices the good in you? _Is it because you want her for yourself?_"

"You are," Tora said, his eyes pure ice. "Crossing the line."

"She would take me." Marjani's voice was ruthless. "I could have her if I –"

Tora slammed him into the wall.

Marjani made no move whatsoever to get out of the position. "What is this, then?" He asked, motioning to the hand holding him against the wall, a mock smile playing around his mouth. "Why the anger, Tora? Does it make you angry that I could have her?"

"I do not." Tora's voice was cold. "Share what I play with."

"Is that the word, then?" Marjani's smile was not a nice one. "Play?"

Tora let go of him and stepped back. His face was smooth, devoid of expression. "You've had too much to drink," he said coolly.

"Last time I checked." Marjani straightened; the fact that Tora's action had ruined his shirt, did not seem to bother him. "You were the drinker."

"And last time I checked." Tora righted his tie, as if he had not just slammed Marjani Suoh into a wall and lived whole and intact to tell the tale. "You had more sophisticated methods of getting a rise out of me. This little plan of yours, _cousin_? Believe me, it doesn't seem to be working."

Marjani's mouth twisted into a smile. "Does it feel nice to take out your anger on yourself, on someone else?"

Tora's eyes narrowed. "Why the hell." He breathed. "Are you doing this?"

Marjani straightened. "Because I owe you," he said, his voice hard.

There it was, out in the open between them. The one thing neither of them had ever referred to, or wanted to refer to.

"You owe me nothing," Tora said coldly.

"Does denying it happened mean it didn't?" Marjani's words were like ice. "I would still have been this –" He held up his wrist. The band around it gleamed in the light.

"I'm not in the mood." Tora's voice was harsh. "To reminiscence about the past."

"You offered yourself in exchange for my freedom," Marjani said, his voice no less hard than Tora's. "That's a bit heavier than reminiscencing about the past, if you ask me."

Tora's eyes flashed. "My father had the whole group in prison before they could so much as _speak_ to me in person," he said, voice cold. "I knew he would. I knew he would be on my heels the moment I left the house. Don't try." His voice was soft and ice-like and dangerous. "To turn me into a saviour."

"You hoped," Marjani said, deadpan. "You didn't know."

Tora slammed a fist into a wall. There was the sound of something breaking, as blood trickled down, into his curled palm. "What the hell do you want, Marjani? What the _damned_ hell do you want?"

"Face the facts." Marjani walked up to the door and wrenched it open. The night air blanketing the corridor, hit him like the edge of knife. "You're fooling no one but yourself."

-;-

"Blindfold her," Kurumi ordered.

"Don't you think this is a little extreme?" Sarakshi could hear the exasperation in her voice. She supposed she ought to have been scared, but she felt like grabbing Kurumi Kaishu by the shoulders, and shaking her until the brunette could see sense. "You're going to blindfold me because I'm friends with Marjani?"

"Friends?" Kurumi's voice was a hiss. "_Do you even understand what that word means?_"

"I think," Sarakshi said softly. "I understand what it means, far better than you do."

"Don't speak like that to the mistress," the man who had attacked her earlier and was now pinning her arms behind her back, growled. He attempted to knot a length of rope around her wrists, she shoved back her elbow and hit him in the chest, and he hissed and gave her a good shake.

"You have got to be kidding me," Sarakshi muttered.

"If she so much as opens her mouth again." Kurumi's voice was as low as it was cold. "Gag her." The brunette turned to Sarakshi, wisps of hair escaping her do and painted nails gleaming in the darkness like broken chips of some radiant gemstone. "Don't even _think _of screaming," she whispered as her helper threw what seemed like a piece of rough cloth around Sarakshi's eyes. "I'll make you regret you even thought of it."

There is a point when you become so furious, you are calm. Dead calm. Sarakshi felt so now; fiercer and more exasperated and calmer than she had all night. "Where are we going, then?" She asked, tone quite conversational. "The batcave?"

The man knotted a gag around her mouth.

"That's much better, isn't it?" There was a shrill sort of satisfaction in Kurumi's question. Unhinged, almost. "Get in," she hissed as a car door – less of a door and more of a blur for Sarakshi, now – swung open in front of them. "Now."

Sarakshi resisted the urge to sigh. How the heck had she let herself get into this situation? Now would, she reflected, have been a good time to scream for help. Too bad the gag didn't allow her to do that. She took a deep breath… and moved. Fast.

The short man was on her in a flash, securing her tied wrists behind her back in a grip as final as death.

"That is it." Kurumi sounded a mixture of stunned and caught off guard and furious. "The last straw. You don't listen to me? I don't play nice."

She shoved Sarakshi inside the car, hard. Sarakshi saw the world spin in a haze of colours and blurred outlines as she lost her balance and crashed on to a seat. The heel of the one stiletto she still wore caught on the edge of the car door and irked, she kicked it off – right out of the car and on to the pavement.

Served the darned shoe right.

-;-

There was nothing he would have liked to do so much, Tora thought with an almost savage sort of viciousness, as kick Marjani in the face.

So much for sophistication.

Was she special? There was no doubt she was. Someone who ask Genkei Igarashi if he was going to bit her, could not be anything less. Did she mean anything to him?

She couldn't hope to in a million years.

Women were there for his satisfaction. He took what he wanted from them with absolute ease, no trouble and an almost inborn arrogance: he had the looks, the riches, the confidence, the undeniable power. She interested him because she wouldn't bend to that, and he found that defiance delicious. Something to be savoured. Encouraged. Not because it was notable; but because it would make her submission, when it came, all the more entertaining.

Hands in the pockets of his slacks, he came to a halt. His shoe had collided with something in the grass. Something that looked rather familiar. One of the revolving electric lights overlooking the rather vacant garden threw it in sudden and sharp relief and as he realized it was what he had thought it was, one of Tora's eyebrows rose upwards.

Well, well, well. One of the heels she had been wearing. Or, rather, one of the heels she had been attempting to wear. It was bent at an angle; it couldn't have been clearer that she had stumbled over and managed to snap it.

Had she gone home barefoot? He wouldn't, Tora thought with a smirk, put it past her. The second heel was not there, however. He straightened, the movement graceful… and saw the flicker of headlights ahead of him. Headlights that belonged to a car he knew and recognized.

What was Kurumi's limousine doing outside the parking lot, and on a garden path she and her driver both knew was not made for cars, at this time?

He saw someone kick off a bright red heel as Kurumi slid into the car, and his mouth was a thin line, his eyes cold.

-;-

The inside of the vehicle was cool and soft. Sarakshi was aware that Kurumi had sat down opposite her: even if she hadn't been able to see the haze of colours she could through her blindfold, Kurumi's haggard and furious breathing would have given her away.

"I told you," Kurumi sounded shrill and breathless and – sudden realization hit Sarakshi – a little scared. "That if I saw you with Marjani again, I would make you regret it for the rest of your life."

Sarakshi might have responded, if it had not been for the gag. She chose to fold her arms across her chest; Kurumi chose to rant. It was a good fifteen minutes of folded arms and fierce rant before the car pulled to a stop. There was the smooth _swoosh_ of a car door being opened and the hard _slug_ of a person being shoved out. Which person was, of course, Sarakshi.

"Start walking," Kurumi snapped.

The feel of tiles beneath her feet told Sarakshi that she had entered some sort of building. Now would have been a good time, she thought as Kurumi half-dragged her up a staircase, to be Tora Igarashi. In other words, a super manipulative jerk who could get away with anything he wanted to get away with, no matter how complicated a situation. Her best plan so far was to wait until Kurumi left her alone. Which she doubted Kurumi would be foolish enough to.

The sound of footsteps distracted her. Footsteps, and a voice.

"Kurumi. What the _heck_ is this?"

Sarakshi would have blinked if she could have: the voice – male and surprised – was familiar in a distant sort of manner. She had a feeling she had heard it before. Several times. More than several times.

"We're going to teach her a lesson." It was hard to tell whether Kurumi sounded furious or defensive. "What are you doing, Kouma? _What the hell are you doing?_"

The unknown speaker's figure loomed in front of Sarakshi. She didn't even have time to frown: in one swift movement, he had pulled off the blindfold. The makeshift cloth gag followed, falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. The world swam into sharp focus and the taste of clean air filled her lungs in a rush. She saw a wooden staircase, a textured floor, and a wall lined with doors. Then she saw the face of the person who had pulled off her blindfold… and realized she recognized him.

It was Kouma Yabu.

"Believe me," she said. "I always thought you looked like the sanest member of UxMishi."

His eyes flickered. "Kurumi." He sounded equal parts shocked and frustrated. "_What is wrong with you?"_

"Don't take that tone with me!" Kurumi's voice was getting shriller with each word. "She has her hands all over my fiancée, and she thinks I'm going to sit back and watch? She's… she's… _she works in a slut café_."

"It's a maid café," Sarakshi corrected.

_"That's the same thing!"_ Kurumi snapped.

"Kurumi." Kouma's voice was patient now. Even calm. "I think we need to talk about this. Right now."

"I'm not talking to anyone until she goes down on her knees and apologizes to me!" Kurumi spat. She grabbed Sarakshi's hands, a simple task since both of them had been bound together, and pulled her across the hall. "Move!" She hissed. "I said _move_."

"Let go of me –" Sarakshi's voice was quiet. "– and I might."

Kurumi's eyes narrowed. "You don't understand, do you? I'm calling the shots here, you stupid girl. If you don't cooperate with me, things could get much,_ much_ worse for you."

"You expect me to believe." Sarakshi raised an eyebrow. "That if I cooperate with you, you're going to let me go?"

"You little –"

"Kurumi –" Kouma said, voice sharp.

Kurumi pushed her.

She should have seen it coming. Sarakshi should have seen it coming. She would have too, if she had been more focused and less exasperated. Kouma sprang forward to catch her before she fell. It was too bad for him that Kurumi had other plans in mind. She cut across him and kicked open the nearest door. In an effort to right herself, Sarakshi – who would have crashed against it if it had been open – met a wall inside the room the door led into.

"That's much better, isn't it?" Kurumi asked. Her eyes were fixed on Sarakshi. "I like the idea of you locked in that room while I decide what to do about your guts."

"_Cut it out, Kurumi!"_ Kouma snapped.

Kurumi stepped in front of him. Her step was sharp, full of an eerie sort of calm. "You wanted to talk about this, didn't you? Well, I'm willing to. On the condition that she remains in there until I decide what I want to do with her."

There was a mixture of emotions – most of them frustrated and resigned – on Kouma's face. "Fine," he said. "Fine."

Kurumi smiled. "I knew you'd see sense."

"I want _you_ to see sense." Kouma's voice was dark. "If that means she'll have to be locked in for an hour or so –"

Kurumi swept past him and into the room. She held Sarakshi's gaze, her own narrowed. "Don't think you're not in trouble," she said, her voice quiet. "Yazka! Get in here!" The short man who had attacked Sarakshi earlier stepped into the room. Kurumi snatched something from his arms, bent down, and bound Sarakshi's legs with movements that were frustrated, almost feverish. "He's mistaken if he thinks he can talk me into letting you leave. He's mistaken if he thinks he will _ever_ talk me –"

"That's enough, Kurumi." Kouma appeared at the door, his voice stiff. Cold. The patience had disappeared altogether. "Yazka, can you please leave?" The moment the man had bowed and disappeared from view, Kouma turned on Kurumi. "_Leave her alone._"

"No." Kurumi stormed past him. Into the corridor. "I won't –"

"Kurumi." He grabbed her arm and pulled her to himself. Despite the frustration visible on his face, the movement was gentle. "This isn't like you."

"What do you want me to do, Kouma?" There were tears in Kurumi's eyes. The kind of enraged tears that won't stop and won't spill over. "Sit back and watch her steal everything that's mine?" She wrenched free of his grip, slammed the door to the room Sarakshi was in – leaving the redhead tied up in the darkness – and stormed down the stairs.

"Kurumi, wait –" For a moment, Kouma was torn between opening the door Kurumi had slammed shut, and following her. Then he made his decision and sprang down the staircase after her.

Both of them stilled.

Tora Igarashi was leaning against the doorway of the hall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, his gaze calm.

"Now," he said, turning around to face the two of them. "Do you tell me where she is, or do I make you?"

-;-

Kurumi's eyes narrowed. "I have no idea," she said, and her voice was cool and calm and professional. "What you are talking about."

Tora straightened up. There was something about that movement – practiced and dangerous and self-assured – that made Kurumi Kaishu want to take a step back. "Come on, Kurumi." He took a step towards her and secured her chin between his thumb and forefinger. The touch was almost a caress. "You wouldn't want to lie to me. We did have an amazing night…" His voice dropped. "Didn't we?"

"Keep your hands to yourself." Kouma's voice was stiff.

Tora took a step back, an amused smirk lifting the corners of his lip. "Ah. The unfortunate best friend."

Kurumi's eyes flashed. "Don't be an idiot, Igarashi!"

"And here I thought," Tora's smile was sharp; his voice, just a little too amiable. "That we were on a first name basis."

"Get out." Kurumi sounded shrill, almost nervous. "Get the he –"

Kouma placed a hand on her shoulder. She fell silent and the silence stretched on for what seemed - to Kouma and Kurumi - like several abrupt and stunned and desperate weeks. Then Kouma jerked a thumb towards a door.

"She's in there." His voice was quiet. "Take her and go."

"No!" His words seemed to bring Kurumi back to life with a gigantic jerk. "Don't be ridiculous, Kouma! You can't just let him take her and leave!"

"You need an aspirin and some sleep," Kouma's voice was very, very quiet. His grip on her arm tightened, just a little. "Come on, Kurumi."

_"No!"_ Kurumi moved in front of Tora at a speed that would have impressed him, had he been in a mood to be impressed. She held her hands at an angle, both in front of her chest, her stance assumed, her readiness to block and fight him apparent in the anger in her eyes.

"Is she sure," Tora looked past Kurumi as if she did not exist, and at Kouma. His voice was cool and unaffected, even bored. "She wants to fight me? She's going to go down –" He kicked a desk, which overturned, the bang so loud Kurumi took an impulsive step backwards. "Worse than this."

"No." There was a final sort of firmness in Kouma's response. "She doesn't want to fight." He took hold of Kurumi's arm. The brunette's face was a defiant sort of defeated – her rage at the realization that she did not stand a chance seemed to come off her in waves. "Take your girl and go."

Hand on the doorknob, Tora turned.

"She is," his voice was very, very calm and very, very cold. "Not my girl."

-;-

The moment he stepped into the room, his eyes narrowed. It was not the darkness – so complete he knew it would take his eyes more than just several seconds to adjust – that made them narrow.

It was the sound of the door that had just been locked shut behind him.

If Kurumi Kaishu thought she could lock him in, she had more to learn than he had thought she did. He ignored the shut door and scanned the room. It was too dark to see much; if he hadn't known in advance who it was that was seated in the corner, he wouldn't have realized it was that little chit of a girl without having to move closer.

"Back so soon?" Her eyes narrowing at the sound of footsteps, Sarakshi snapped her head up to glare at the figure in the distance. Her tone was sarcastic, and it was a moment before Tora realized she had mistaken him for Kurumi. Which, under usual circumstances, might have affronted him. Things being what they were, however, he would let it pass. Or not. _She owes me._ (It never occurred to him that she_ would_ owe him, _if_ he saved her.)_ I could make things… hard for her. _"Whatever happened to fancy things like spending hours planning the perfect punishment and cackling like an evil overlord?"

Tora realized he had been waiting for her to speak, almost as if he had been… worried. The idea was ridiculous, and he dismissed it without a second thought. "Cackling isn't my style," he said, a smirk in his voice. "But we could… work on the punishment part."

Her breath caught. "Igarashi?"

He walked up to her, leaned down, one knee resting against the ground, and placed a hand under her chin. "Look at you all trussed up," he said, voice soft and wicked. "It gives me…. ideas."

"What are you doing here?" Sarakshi forced down the colour in her cheeks and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Planning the perfect punishment," he breathed in her ear.

'Trussed up' against your will, Sarakshi thought, was not the best state to be in, within five miles' radius of a man who you _knew_ didn't mean you any good. It occurred to her that if he decided to take advantage of her, there was little she could do. "Creep," she said, his breath warm on her ear and the reason her cheeks were a furious and embarrassed scarlet.

"Do I –" He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed her against the wall. "Scare you?"

She looked up at him. In the darkness, his eyes were the colour of tarnished gold. "Why do I have a feeling trussed up girls are the only ones you put that question to?" There was a feeling of knotted, twisted panic in her stomach and Sarakshi refused to let that show. "I don't suppose you've ever put it to, say, Marjani?"

His eyes narrowed. It was almost as if the comparison angered him. Then he leaned down, his hair falling in his eyes, his lips inches away from hers. "Do I scare you now?" He asked in a voice that was all silk and sin and gravel.

He smelled… expensive. From the suit to the cologne to that aura of perfection that always surrounded him. Expensive and powerful and intoxicating. She thought of what she had seen before she had left the dance; Tora Igarashi, coat on floor, shirt unbuttoned, bent over Kurumi Kidnapping Kaishu. "No," she said. "But the fact that you're bleeding all over me _is_ starting to creep me out."

His eyes widened, for one fleeting moment. He looked down, at the fist he had smashed when he had hit the wall during his conversation with Marjani (_There are things you do because you believe you should, not because you would gain something from them. Even if you pretend it isn't so, you will still be someone who isn't hundred percent rational. You will still be driven by emotions, at times. You will still adhere to principles that don't always benefit you_. Was that what she had said?) and, in one graceful movement, rose to his feet. There was an amused smirk playing around his mouth. "Aren't you interesting."

"Aren't you the picture perfect angst-ridden teenager," Sarakshi muttered. She snapped her gaze off him, placed her bound hands on the wall, and grazed them – hard – against it.

"Is that a sign of frustration?" Tora asked, one eyebrow arched.

"Yes, Igarashi, you _are_ frustrating."

He'd snapped open his cellphone. In its light, she could see his shadow take over the room. With a bit of a frown, she raised her hands again; as she did so, he realized something. The ropes around her wrists were frayed; her forearms, dark red and bruised.

"Ishin." He touched her forearm, his voice cold. "What the hell is this?"

Sarakshi winced. "Don't do that!" She snapped. "I was trying to loosen the ropes." She grazed her roped wrists against the wall once again, and one of the bruises opened. "See? It –"

Tora pinned her against the wall so hard, he knocked all the breath out of her lungs. "Don't," his voice was like ice. The fact that she was stupid enough to hurt herself because she couldn't give up, irked him. How could she leap before she looked? How the _hell_ could she take risks when she hadn't calculated their pros and cons? "Do that again."

Sarakshi took a sharp intake of breath. His eyes were dark with rage, a kind of rage she had never seen in them before; and hands and feet bound, she felt exposed, open, vulnerable. The rare feeling seemed to leave a lump in her throat. "If you're trying to intimidate me," she said, her voice low. "It..." She cleared her throat, attempting to shake the gravel out of her statement. "Isn't working."

His gaze locked with hers. There was a mixture of nervousness and defiance in her eyes and he knew, all at once, that he would _never_ hesitate to take advantage of her. He let go of her shoulders in a movement whose calmness amazed him and sat down besides her. Sarakshi stirred, a suspicious sort of stir, and his arm went around her shoulders to touch her tied wrists. Her eyes widened; for a moment, she thought it was another attempt to mock her and she could her heart thud against her chest in a blur of panic.

Then she realized he was undoing the rope.

Her hands came free, untied. She turned to look at him, the curve of her mouth soft and surprised and almost _relieved_.

Damn it, he wanted her. He wanted to throw her on a bed and pin her beneath him and kiss her until she was breathless and wide-eyed and whispering his name over and over again. And more.

"What is it, Ishin?" His voice was cool. "Don't tell me I scare you, after all."

Sarakshi leaned over him to touch his injured fist. The action was impulsive and sudden and unplanned – things none of his actions ever were – and his eyes widened, though she didn't see them widen. "I didn't understand it before," she said, a frown in her voice. She tugged the ropes off her legs, rose to her feet, and turned around to face him. "You wouldn't scare me if you tried." _Because you would never hesitate to take advantage of me… when you know I can fight back. You would never take advantage of me, when you know I can't._ "Shall we leave?"

Tora rose to his feet and took a step towards her. It was purposeful and meant to be intimidating and Sarakshi scowled and stood her ground. He took another step and then another step and then she had moved, or at least attempted to move out of his path in that part-flustered part-defensive manner she couldn't seem to let go of, and he had backed into the wall with no effort at all, as if he backed girls into walls on a regular basis. Which, it occurred to her, he probably did.

"No," he said, his voice all sorts of wicked. "You owe me."

"I know." She stepped around him to look up at the door. "I think it's locked from the outside."

Tora's eyes narrowed. No one ignored him, not even her._ Especially_ not her. "Ishin." He pinned her against the door and leaned over her, invading her personal space with skilled ease. "You owe me."

"I know." Her voice was cool. She could feel his heat and inhale the scent of his clothes and it occurred to her that the first time she had seen Tora Igarashi, it had struck her that he was handsome. Beyond handsome. She resisted the urge to scowl. "Do you want to leave and get that hand checked by a doctor, or do you want to keep repeating your infamous three-word dialogue?"

"You're worried about my hand." His voice was pure sin, with a side-dish of utter laziness. "How… cute."

His grip had loosened but he had left her hands on her shoulders. She ignored him, shrugged them off, and kicked the door. Nothing happened: it _was_ locked from the outside. She took a step backwards, took a deep breath, prepared to kick the darn door _hard_ this time around – and Igarashi kicked it right open, one hand in the pocket of his slacks.

"You're a beast," she said, staring at the door that was now swinging back and forth on its hinges.

He held it open for her. "You're like a man, Ishin," he drawled. "But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt – ladies first."

* * *

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_Hope you guys enjoy this chapterr. Its title comes from the line '_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved' in one of Pablo Neruda's sonnets. What elseee? *thinks* Oh yees. I just had to put in the part where Tora breaks the door open. If Usui can do it, so can Tora. =D (alsoo, I liked imagining the scene.) *_*_  
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_Thaaaank you for all the feedback. gamma-rae-star, HMOrange216, kaiwa, Javiera (I don't speak Spanish but I did use Google Translate. Thank YOUU for the review), echizenochi, Twillk, Farynx99, Ally, Lucky Kick, Asrana21 andd CIAOCIAOSASHI. You all.. make my day. Every time. Thunkyousomuch. =3  
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__magicme_. Nooo, I haven't read/ seen La Corda. (I'z assuming it's a manga or an anime.) Is it good? Should I read/ see it? x3  
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_Akumi. Thank you. I'm glad you likess Tora. and I'm sure you'll find an awesome source of inspiration that will motivate you to write. =) _

_Aishwarya. Hihi. *waves* Noo, I'm not an Indian. =) GOOD luck for the entrance examination, though. I hope you do awesome. Lots of luck. =3_

_Chapter sixteen will hopefully be up by this Sunday. In the meanwhile... reviiiew and make me happy? *_* _

_*gives you all cookies*  
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	16. in secret, between Shadow and soul

**c h a p t e r s i x t e e n  
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**in secret, between the SHADOW and the soul.  
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The corridor was done in warm wood and clear glass. It ended at the top of an elegant brown staircase. Brushing her bangs off her face – the chignon was starting to come loose – Sarakshi frowned.

"This place feels… wooden."

"It's a summerhouse." Tora's voice was lazy.

_More like a summer mansion_, Sarakshi thought. She tilted her head to look up at Igarashi. His face was all planes and angles and when he moved, he moved with an effortless elegance and a dangerous, lurking sense of purpose. He was, she imagined, what an anti-hero must look like. "You even have the lack of principles to go with it," she said drily.

Tora raised an eyebrow. "The trauma seems to be taking a toll on you, Ishin. Would you like me to –" His voice was full of wicked suggestions. "– alleviate your stress?"

"Has it occurred to you," Sarakshi's voice was sweet. "That we are attempting to leave the house I was brought to, after I was kidnapped?"

"I don't attempt to do things," he drawled.

He did have a point. If he wanted to do something, he didn't _attempt_ to do it: he did it. Did it with what seemed like effortless ease, too. That was the last thing Sarakshi would have agreed to in front of him, however. (Not that he needed her agreement; she was quite sure of that.) "With an ego the size of yours, I'm amazed the rest of you is still functional," she muttered.

Tora caught her shoulders and, the action as swift as it was practiced, pressed her back against the dark wooden railing that ran up the staircase and around the landing. "_Very_ functional," he breathed in her ear.

Cheeks flaming, Sarakshi shoved him back with both hands; he refused to budge. "Pervert," she snapped.

His eyes narrowed. It was not the reaction she had expected, and Sarakshi blinked. For a split second, she couldn't figure out the reason behind his sudden response. Then he had stepped back, his eyes expressionless, his voice smooth and mock warm and said,

"Kurumi. We were just talking about you."

Sarakshi whirled around to see Kurumi Kaishu. The brunette stood between the two of them and the staircase, her expression livid and her arms crossed. "Cozying up with Tora, are you now?" Her voice was no longer shrill. It was freezing. "I should have guessed."

"Kurumi." Kouma Yabu appeared behind her; he sounded as exhausted of Kurumi's antics as he sounded patient. "Please. Step aside. Let them go."

"Do you seriously think," Tora drawled. "That we need her permission to leave?"

"Why?" Kurumi breathed. "_Why are you all defending her? _Look at her! She comes from nothing. She dresses like a tramp. She glues herself on to every rich man that comes across her path. She's a slut, a common little –"

There was something like ice in Tora's eyes and, even though she could not have said how she knew, Sarakshi was aware that he was going to slam Kurumi into a wall, in the space of the next two seconds. She stepped in front of him and, as she did so, she felt the upsurge of tension in him, as if he had realized he could no longer move towards Kurumi in one furious movement, without knocking Sarakshi off her feet.

"You wouldn't be so furious if you didn't know it wasn't true, Kurumi," she said, voice quiet.

Kurumi's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare speak to me as if –"

"Cut the crap, Kurumi Kaishu." Sarakshi crossed her arms against her chest, the action far from pleased. "I'll speak to you as I want to. You bind me, gag me and dump me into a room. You think I'm not miffed, you little vixen?"

The expression Kurumi wore, was the same one might wear if a door grows a beard. Or pops off its hinges and starts talking to you. "How dare –"

"I am. The hell I am. But I can take being miffed. What I can't take is _you trying to ruin my best friend's life_."

"He was my fiancé long before he was your friend!" Kurumi snapped.

"Which makes me feel sorrier for him," Sarakshi said, tone cold. This wasn't about her. This had never been about her. "You weren't interested in him, but you couldn't take the fact that he wasn't interested in you, either. You couldn't come to terms with knowing that there was one guy who didn't care how beautiful or rich or influential you were. You knew he wouldn't break the engagement, so you made sure you didn't either. It was your petty revenge. How much more selfish could you have been?"

"You're just a common slu –"

"You wish I were." Sarakshi said quietly. "Because you can't accept that he would choose someone like me, over you." _That you could dress up and he wouldn't be affected; and I would turn up in a t-shirt and he would. That you could take him to the best restaurants and he wouldn't care; and I would invite him to a park, and he would._

"You think I'm jealous?" Kurumi sounded both incredulous and furious.

"No," Sarakshi said softly. "I think you're just amazingly selfish."

"You bit –"

"Does calling me that make it less true? What you can't have, no one else can have, either. Because you would rather suffer than admit defeat."

"I am not," Kurumi's voice was shaking with rage; she had stopped sounding like a broken record. "Suffering."

"Oh?" Perhaps the constant run-ins with Igarashi had rubbed off on her, after all; Sarakshi realized she did not care that she was being ruthless. "Maybe you aren't, Kurumi. But he is." She looked at Kouma, whose eyes widened. "I haven't met him before, and even I can tell he cares. Can you look him in the eye and say that you can't? You aren't jealous, Kurumi. You're just. Amazingly. Selfish."

"You know nothing," Kurumi said through gritted teeth. "You know nothing about me or –" She seemed to be looking for something that would hit a nerve. Hurt. "_Or Marjani Suoh. _I've known for him years. I know all there is to know about him. You know nothing about him, you stupid girl. You know nothing about what he was –"

"Maybe I don't." Sarakshi said quietly. "But I do know one thing, Kurumi." Her eyes locked with Kurumi's. "He's been through enough. He doesn't need to be put through any more. Neither –" Her eyes flickered towards Kouma. "Does he."

There was a moment of silence, a sudden and furious and wrathful moment. Then Kurumi turned on her heel and stormed off. Her shoes clicked against the wooden stairs and for a while, all that could be heard was the harsh click of furious heels against tiled floor. Then Kouma stepped forward, back rigid, and motioned to the staircase.

"I think you two should leave." His voice was stiff.

Sarakshi's eyes flickered. "I didn't mean to…"

"I apologize for what you had to go through, because of Kurumi," Kouma cut across. "But I think there's been enough drama in this house for one night. You'll find the main gates open. Have a good night." He bowed to her and, manner still stiff, disappeared down the staircase. To find Kurumi, perhaps.

Sarakshi frowned, rubbed a spot on her forearm, turned around to look for Igarashi… and realized he was leaning against the railing, his hands knotted behind his neck, and his expression amused. His eyes met Sarakshi's and he smirked. "I see the catfight is over," he said, straightening up. "I was hoping for some more… action."

"You know what? You're hopeless."

She swept past him, down the staircase, and out of the hall.

-;-

It was darker than she had expected it to be, outside. It took Sarakshi several moments to realize the reason: the summerhouses, being summerhouses, were vacant at this time of the year. No people meant little to no lighting. Save for the two lights that shone from the building she had just emerged from.

Tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans, Sarakshi sighed. The pavement was cold and she was barefoot. _I should have asked Kouma for a pair of shoes. Now I'll have to walk to the bus stop like –_

"Leaving without me?" Someone whispered, right in her ear.

She jumped half a foot into the air in a mixture of surprise and shock. "Don't sneak up on me, Igarashi!"

Her hair had come lose, and her feet were soft and white in the dim light, and she looked delicious. He pushed her into the corner where two moss-covered walls met and leaned down over her. "You look flustered, Ishin. Is… something the matter?"

"Creep," Sarakshi muttered. She was cold and tired; and the last thing she wanted right now, was a face-off with Tora Igarashi. She rubbed her feet together. Damn, she needed a pair of shoes. It was a moment before she realized that Igarashi was… not bothering to push her into pushing him off. She looked up and blinked; he was looking down at her with an expression she could not recognize. It was almost as if he was… searching for something. "What are you doing?" she asked with a frown.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he drawled.

"You mean, other than making me feel suspicious by not doing anything you shouldn't be do -"

He grabbed the front of her shirt. Sarakshi felt his hands close around a fistful of the fabric and her eyes widened. She was aware that his hand was warm and rough, and that her breath was stuck in her throat like a fierce bit of gum, and that her heart was beating in her ears, and that her cheeks were such a bright red, even the semi-darkness would not be able to hide it. "Ishin." His voice was different; more intense. "_Weren't you scared?_"

The unexpected question caught her off guard. So much so that she forget that she had been planning to kick him in the groin. Had she been scared? The true response would have been, to death. Being manhandled, gagged and left in the dark, she could handle. Being bound, she could not. The loss of movement had meant she could not defend herself. The knowledge had not been nice: knowing she couldn't take care of herself was neither an something she had experienced often, nor something she could handle well.

"No, I wasn't," she muttered.

Her eyes had been wide, almost panicked for several moments there. She was such a bad liar, it surprised him that she even tried. "Oh?" His said lazily.

"Of course I wasn't –" she began, arms folded across her chest in a defensive huff.

He pulled her to him.

He had done that before, dozens of times before, but he had always maintained a distance between their bodies, almost as if he had no interest in being touched. This time, he didn't. She met his chest, and his arms came around her, and she could feel the strength in them, even where his shirt sculpted to muscles.

Her eyes had become as round as saucers. There was chaos in them, a disorganized sort of chaos, and its presence made his eyes widen. He had seen her furious, defensive, embarrassed and flustered; he had never seen her afraid. He wasn't sure whether the glimpse of terror he had seen in her face irked or stunned him, but he _was_ sure that it wasn't supposed to be there. He could feel her against him - cold - barefoot - uncertain - and the overwhelming transparency of each powerful emotion (She could never hide what she felt, could she? He would never have that. That naïvete that allowed her to express what she felt, as she felt it.) astounded him because it was new and unrestrained and real. More real than anything he had ever known.

"You're a terrible liar, commoner," he breathed in her ear.

"What the hell are you –"

His grip around her tightened.

The action was sudden - dominating - intimate in a manner nothing else would ever be, and her breath caught. How could he make an action that ought to have been fierce and mocking and against her will, seem natural and perfect and right? She could smell him, that expensive smell that seemed part and parcel of him, and the scent was dizzying. She was cold and exhausted and he was neither and her hand clenched around a fistful of his shirt in a movement that was part anger, part the refusal to let go of her control on the situation. "What are you doing, Igarashi?" she whispered.

He'd have liked to tell himself he did what he did next, because she was responding. The truth was, he did it because he wanted to. Would have, even if she hadn't been. Because she had stilled and let herself draw in on the comfort he had offered and the fact that she needed him _because _she needed him (not because he was rich. Not because he was handsome. Not because he was influential.) surprised even him. He cupped the back of her head with one rough hand and moulded her against himself. Her hair was soft and she melted into him like she had been made for him –

_Is it because you want her for yourself?_

She's a woman, he reminded himself; all women mould into men like that. His grip on her loosened. "It's such a shame," he drawled. "That you lost those shoes. They gave me… ideas."

Sarakshi took a step backwards and, just like that, he let her go. Her heart thudded against her ribcage in a mixture of emotions – anger because she had been stupid enough to believe that he could mean to offer comfort, and shock and hurt and disappointment that it had all been an act (How could an act be so convincing? How could an act _ever_ be so convincing?) – and she wanted to shake him, hard. "Why did you come?" Her voice was hard. "To have a good laugh at me?"

"I like the idea of you owing me, Ishin."

Her eyes widened. He could see the hurt in them, clear as glass. She couldn't have, he thought with an inward twinge of annoyance, expected a different answer. How naïve was she? How unwilling to accept that she would never find the good she had decided existed in him? "I see," she said, tone flat. Without a word, she turned around.

He should have let her go. That was what he wanted, after all. To get a rise out of her. To see her cheeks flame in defensiveness and embarrassment. To see her hot and bothered and flustered. He should have let her go, but her hair was dark and red and coming out of its chignon, and her eyes were large and dark and furious, and he caught her forearm.

"What do you intend to do?" He drawled. "Walk back home barefoot?"

"That is." Her voice was as sharp as steel. "None of your business."

"Get in the car."

"And you think I will do as you're asking because?" It amazed Sarakshi how calm she sounded. How normal.

"You have no shoes on." His voice was disdainful. "And whatever else you may or may not be, Ishin, you aren't stupid." He held open the door of his car. "I'll count to five. One. Two. Three."

He was right. It _would_ be foolish to walk to a bus stop barefoot, in the bitter cold. More foolish still, to attempt to find one in a place she was not acquainted with, when she had a car – even if it was Tora Igarashi's car – at her disposal.

"Four. Five."

There was a moment of silence in which Tora realized she didn't give a damn about his counting.

"It's good to see you can count, Igarashi." She swept past him, five feet of the amazing power to annoy the hell out of him, and sat down in the car. "Would you like to recite the alphabet next?"

Tora slid into the car; the door swung shut behind him with the softest _thud_. Placing a hand underneath her chin, he lifted it. "Are you sure you want to pitch yourself against me, Ishin?" He drawled.

"Sometimes." Her voice was soft. "I hate you more than I thought I could hate, Igarashi."

"Oh?" He leaned forward, his manner lazy. "You do realize, don't you, that you are in my car?"

Sarakshi arched an eyebrow. "What are you going to do, tell me to get down?" She asked, tone sarcastic. She was furious. Furious, furious, furious. She remembered the feel of his arms around her, and how he had just let her go, and how it had all been because he wanted her to owe him. She wanted to grab him and shake him, until he apologized. _What do you want, Igarashi? You can't protect and mock me at the same time._ "That would just be the kind of petty thing I would expect from you."

The statement was meant to sting, and Tora knew better than to let it. "You are too far below me." His eyes met hers; the look in them was a challenge. "To even think of gauging my level."

"You don't have a level, Igarashi." She pulled her legs up on the seats and placed her arms around her knees. Her voice was quiet and her gaze, fixed on a spot ahead of her."Just a messed up version of pride. No girl worth her salt would even waste a second glance at you."

His eyes narrowed; she could tell that when she had dragged pride into the equation, she had stepped on a landmine. "It must be sad to know you don't fall in the "worth your salt" category, Ishin," he drawled. "Because you sure looked like you wanted more –" He leaned over her and brushed his thumb against her lower lip; she shivered, the reaction impulsive, and he felt a savage sort of satisfaction at the response. "– five minutes ago."

Her eyes widened. How could she have thought he had been concerned? How could she ever have thought that he might care? That he was even capable of caring? "You are vile," she whispered.

"And you." His voice was cold. Cold enough to make her eyes widen further. "Are as common as clay."

Silence fell between them, an ice-cold silence and, for once, neither of them broke it.

-;-

She made no move to get up, when the car pulled up outside of Utsukushii Creek. Several seconds elapsed; Tora looked up at long last to see her seated in the corner she had chosen to sit in, her hands clasped in her lap and her hair falling down her shoulders in scarlet waves that hid her face from view.

"I hope you aren't," His voice was cold. "Waiting for me to open the door for you."

She didn't respond. His eyes flickered; he turned her towards himself and realized that her eyes were closed. Her eyelashes rested against her cheek, dark and thick; there was the faint trace of a frown on her face. It occurred to him that she had been through a lot, tonight. Most people he knew would have broken down – cried, screamed, been vocal about what they had been through – even if they hadn't had him to compound their problems.

She hadn't.

He stepped out of the car, opened the door on her side and, face impassive, scooped her out of the car. She was light, lighter than he had thought she would be. This close, he could feel her breathe; the rise and fall of her chest was soft and calm and even. It was… content. With a frown at the thought, he detached her apartment keys from the chain attached to the pocket of her jeans.

The scent of lavender and chocolate met him when the door of her apartment swung open.

Her room was in perfect order; no towels on the bed, no clothes on the floor, no books thrown about. He laid her down on the bed; she turned on her side and her hair cascaded over her right shoulder like a scarlet silk curtain. In the half-darkness, the bruises on her forearms were a scatter of dark smudges.

_Is it because she brings out your worst and your best? Because she stands up to you? Because she isn't afraid to speak her mind, no matter who she faces? Because she always finds the good in life and people? Is it because she makes you realize what being content is? Because she sees past the façade and notices the good in you?_

He leaned down over her, brushed her hair off her neck and said, his voice quiet,

"Sometimes, I hate you more than I thought I could hate, Ishin."

He pressed the button on the doorknob before he closed the main door so that, when it swung shut behind him, it was locked from the inside.

* * *

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_So I'm a day late with the chapter but things came up. *makes excuses* :| Sorrysorry, guys. The chapter title is, once again, from a Pablo Neruda sonnet. ('_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved/ in secret, between the shadow and the soul'.. so pretty. *_*) __

__Thank you for the feedback. Trickster707, spiderthorn, Bebe17, gamma-rae-star , HMOrange216, yourhappyplace, ChuGaEun, ulqui x, echizenochi, CIAOCIAOSASHI, Farynx99 AND everyone who has subscribed/ favourited.  
><em>_

__ __Ally. Youalwaysmakemyday.*HUG*  
><em>___

__Aishwarya. TAMAKI! You make me miss Ouran. *goes to watch it again* And your English is absolutely, absolutely FINE. And. Thunk youu. =)  
><em>_

__Twillk. Thaaaaank you. *sits in a corner and looks happy* *_* annd yeees. I thought you two (one?) were the same person. But I wasn't sure. :( __

__magicme. I started watching La Corda some days ago. In the beginning, I didn't like Yunoki that much. But after his other side showed, I got what you meant. =P I love evil Yunoki SO much. (I think I have a thing for bad guys. XD) and Hihara. He soo cute. :3 aaaand. I iz Kashmiri. And I have family living in India, so I know a looot about the culture. x3__

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__v__


	17. the edge of the Precipice

**c h a p t e r s e v e n t e e n**

**the edge of the PRECIPICE.  
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What on earth? Sarakshi woke up in a tangle of sheets to the realization that she was wearing what she had worn to the dance, last night. Sunlight streamed into her bedroom through the half-open window and a frown flickered across her face as she realized she had no recollection whatsoever of having entered her apartment. The last thing she remembered, in fact, was Igarashi's scorching response to her statement.

She sat up… and realized her shirt smelled of Igarashi's cologne.

Hades.

Had he… carried her inside? Refusing to acknowledge the colour in her cheeks, she swept out of her room and into the lounge. Her apartment keys hung from the key holder mounted on the wall, and she knew at once that he had placed them there: the action was typical, organized Igarashi. She almost never hung the keys there; she had a habit of leaving them on the table.

Biting her lip, she sat down on her bed and took out the pins that still somewhat held up her hair. She could do with a long shower and a hot meal, right now. Sunlight ran across the couch as she huddled on it, half an hour later, with a bowl of ramen in her hands. Perhaps she ought to skip school. She wasn't sick, but Sarakshi was sure "I was kidnapped the night before and I thought I needed some time-out" was a good enough excuse to miss a bunch of classes.

Even if she felt it was just that – an excuse.

The real reason she was exhausted, was him. How could he hold her as if he had never wanted anything more than to hold her, and not mean it? _How can you make an act so real, Igarashi?_ There was a point when she had thought she could hate him because he was vile. He was. But there was more to him than that – kindness and courage and the willingness to make sacrifices for others, whether he admitted it or not – and sometimes, the effort of attempting to figure out who he was and what he wanted drove her insane.

_It must be sad to know you don't fall in the "worth your salt" category, Ishin. Because you sure looked like you wanted more five minutes ago._

Her eyes widened. _Don't think of it, Sarakshi, you idiot. _Manipulation was an art; Tora Igarashi, a master. He said what he wanted you to remember and nothing else. She would not think of him or of what had happened last night. (Most of all because she knew what she had said to him the night before, had been an invitation to open war; he would not let a comment like that pass.) She set the bowl down, picked up her cellphone, and punched in Marjani's number.

"Sarakshi."

Marjani's voice was the kind of flat that made her want to flinch. "I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have left like that." She could and should have told him about Kurumi; it was the last thing she wanted to discuss over the phone, however. "I know –"

"It's fine."

Even now, there were times when she couldn't gauge his emotions. "It is?" She asked, a frown in her voice, when what she wanted to say was, _we both know it isn't_.

"What do you want me to say?" Marjani's deep voice seemed deeper on the phone. "That it isn't? That the next time you go to a dance with me, I'd appreciate it if you let me know before you leave?"

"I didn't mean to –"

"I'm sure you didn't."

"Right." Sarakshi said. She had ruined his night, hadn't she? Images tumbled into her head – Igarashi backing her into a wall; Igarashi bending over Kurumi; Igarashi breaking open a door – and she resisted the urge to sigh and pick at the bandage around her wrist. "We should do something. You know. Like normal friends do."

"What do normal friends do?" His voice was cool.

"Hang out. Go to the movies."

"When I go to the movies, I rent out the entire cinema. I have a feeling that isn't how 'normal' friendship works."

She could hear the grin in his voice; the knowledge of how much she had missed it, amazed her. "Ah. The lifestyle of the rich and famous."

"What are you keeping from me?"

The question was so sudden, so abrupt, so unexpected, she almost choked on a spoonful of ramen. "Don't say things like that all of a sudden, idiot!"

"You Judoka have a term, if I'm not mistaken. _Gaeshi_, isn't it?"

Sarakshi's eyes widened. Gaeshi. Counter. _Well-countered_. _Well-dodged._ "Marjani…"

"I am." Was it even possible for his voice to sound deeper than usual? "Waiting to be told otherwise, Sarakshi."

Her eyes narrowed. "What if it is?"

There was a pause. Then he said, "We should still hang out, then. What was it? Ah, yes. Go to the movies."

Sarakshi flinched. "There's no need to be sarcastic. It was just a suggestion. I…" It was her fault, at least in part. If she hadn't stormed off the night before, none of what had happened would have happened. "I shouldn't have walked out on you. Don't make me feel guiltier than I do, Marjani. I want to make up for what happened last night."

"And what makes you think." His voice was soft. "That you can?"

Her eyes widened. When Marjani Suoh was demanding, she realized, he was far more demanding than Tora Igarashi was. There was something in his tone that made a shiver go up her spine. There was also something in his tone that made her feel as if he knew. Knew what had happened after she had left. _Don't be ridiculous. He can't._ The last person Tora Igarashi might tell a secret, was Marjani. "Don't speak in riddles, Suoh."

"Now what would I need to do that for?" His voice was flat.

"Don't I just wish I knew," Sarakshi muttered. She poked at her ramen with a spoon and took a deep breath. "Listen, I'm attending UxMishi's concert this week, with a couple of friends. You're coming with us, alright?"

Marjani did not remember the last time a girl he had asked out, had turned him down. He did also not remember the last time _a girl_ had asked him out. "Are you." Was she brave or foolish or non-judgemental or all three? "Asking me out?"

"What does it sound like I'm doing, cooking fish?"

"Considering where we stand." His voice was no less sarcastic than hers had been. "That might turn out to be a more productive activity than asking me out."

"That's not –"

"Who else is coming with you?" He cut across.

Sarakshi frowned. "Sora, Linda, and a couple of Linda's male friends. It'll be fun. Linda _is_ fun."

There was a pause, a dark sort of pause. Then Marjani said, his voice quite quite dangerous, "Woman, are you trying to hook me up with your friend?"

Crap. "Marjani –"

"Oh no, you don't."

"Fine, fine, I get the point," Sarakshi grumbled.

For several moments, neither of them spoke. The sun climbed up the wall and light spilled into the room: in its sheen, the couch was a burnt red-gold. She set down the ramen and bit her lip and did not ask him what she wanted to ask him: how he could always read her when she couldn't always read him, and whether he knew what had happened last night after she had left, and if Tora Igarashi was good or bad or neither.

Then she said,

"Talk to you later, Marjani."

"Have a good day, Sarakshi."

"You, too."

It occurred to her, as she hung up, that Marjani Suoh had never once been the one to end one of their conversations.

-;-

"I cannot believe." Her thigh-length hair tied into a waterfall braid and her expression the crabbiest an expression can be, Linda Williams marched into Classroom 2-A and pointed a manicured nail at the redhead seated at the back of the room. "That you didn't receive even one of my calls, yesterday!"

"I was at work." Sarakshi held up her hands, as if that might calm Linda down. "I saw them after I got home." It had been too late to return Linda's calls, then.

"You should still have returned them." Linda said. She half-turned a chair and sat down on it, one leg placed on Sarakshi's desk with a lazy sort of ease. "Give me one good reason that makes it alright for you to skip school without letting me or Sora know the cause."

"There was a lot on my mind?" Sarakshi offered. She _had_ had a lot on her mind. She doubted Linda would enjoy hearing that she had been kidnapped by Marjani's fiancée, due to said fiancée feeling threatened of Sarakshi, however. There was also that nagging conviction at the back of her mind that Marjani had a right to know before Linda.

Linda's eyes flickered; Sarakshi knew at once that the blonde would not pry. "Right," Linda said. She leaned forward (flashing an ample amount of cleavage in the process) and grinned. The sudden and absolute change in expression and manner was so... Linda: Sarakshi was sure she would never be able to master such complete control of what she let on. "I wanted to tell ya about this, yesterday. The annual play? Do I have news about it for ya, woman."

Sarakshi would have asked what news, if a shadow had not fallen over the single table between them at that precise moment.

"Ishin-san."

The voice was cool, polite, professional - and she would have recognized it anywhere. Her eyes snapped up and met Igarashi's. Their last conversation flashed across her mind and she knew, at once, that this could not mean anything good.

"President Igarashi," she said, tone level. The fact that both of them could maintain the even façade with such ease, both did and did not surprise her. "May I help you?"

"I have something I would like to discuss with you. If I may have a moment with you?"

He sounded, she thought, the picture of the polite, professional, well-mannered Student Council President that he wasn't. To refuse would be to break the façade and to break the façade, an admission that something was wrong between them. Their battle of wills was private; letting the outside world know meant you were too weak to handle it on your own. She could not refuse; calculating person that he was, he knew that as well as her. She rose to her feet. "Of course," she said. "I'll be back in a minute, Linda."

"Sure." There was a frown on Linda's face, but it was gone as soon as it had arrived. She straightened up, leaned back in her chair and sent Igarashi a smile that could have melted stone. "See ya, Rakshi. Prez."

Igarashi bowed to Linda and stepped out of the classroom. Sarakshi followed him into the corridor and, the moment the two of them were outside, scowled.

"What do you want, Igarashi?"

His voice was cool. "You owe me."

It was impossible to reconcile this… this cold council president, with the person who had pulled her against himself, last night. That had been an act, she reminded herself. "What do you intend to threaten me with this time, then?" She asked.

His eyes became, if that were even possible, colder. He held out the folder he had been holding and, narrowing her eyes, Sarakshi took it.

"Your script," he said.

"I have no intention." Sarakshi could hear how dispassionate her tone was. "To be cast opposite you."

"What makes you think I would want the likes of you." His drawl was cold. "To be cast opposite me?"

Her eyes widened. He registered equal parts shock and hurt in them. Then her hand closed around the script. "I'm glad to see you've realized a commoner like me is beneath you, _President_."

"You were always beneath me, commoner. It amuses me that you could ever have thought you were anything but entertainment."

She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. "May I ask what this script is for, if you're done being _entertained_?"

"You don't get to walk out on me, Ishin." His smile was oh-so-amiable. "You weren't a good actress. You knew you weren't. The Theatre Committee was willing to give your role to Linda Williams, on learning that was the reason you wanted to step down."

She could feel disbelief, ice-cold and gnawing, locking around her stomach. She wasn't sure what hurt more, the unfair criticism or the lie he had fed the committee. _The fact that he pretended to care,_ a voice said in her head. She wanted to shake him until he apologized. Took the words back. "I resigned," she said, tone like the edge of a knife. "Because I was fed up of your games. Lying to make yourself look better is a bit low, even for you, President Igarashi."

"At least." His voice was soft and dangerous. "I know what I want and how to get it."

"I almost believed," she whispered. "That you cared."

She thought his eyes widened but, when she looked up, his gaze was cold. "You have ten seconds to make your decision. Will you accept the part, or will you have me make you?"

There was no flirtation and no explicit suggestion in the question. It was a threat, pure and simple. She straightened up. "I will. Not because." She could hear her voice growing colder with each word. "You scare me, Igarashi. You couldn't if you wanted to. I'll accept it because I owe you. But believe me." She met his gaze, her own so calm, the knowledge of how calm it was astounded her. "This is the last time I will owe you. Because once this is over, _so help me if I ever look at you again, you manipulative bastard_."

Something seemed to tighten in his face. "I will ignore what you called me this one time. But if you ever." He pinned her against the wall but she did not react, just met his gaze. He would want her to, she knew, and he would never, not ever, play into his hands again. "Speak like that to me again, I will make you wish you had never joined Miyabigoka."

He let go of her, turned around and walked off.

-;-

"So he assigns me the character of a maid. _His_ maid."

She paused and when there was no response, tilted her face to look at Marjani. The two of them were seated on a bench in a vacant park. Vacant, because Marjani Suoh had rented it out. He paid her no attention whatsoever as he raised a fork to his mouth. Sarakshi's eyes narrowed.

"Marjani Suoh." For once, it was her voice that was dangerous. "Have you even heard a word of what I said?"

"It's a boatload of the same thing." His voice was cool. He lowered the fork and met her gaze. "You two fight like children. You two want to kill each other like children. You two are at each other's throats like children. Various versions of." He set down the fork in one, elegant movement. "The same overrated material."

"I see."

"I have my doubts," Marjani said drily.

She grinned. Then the grin faded. "I owe him," she frowned. _I owe him and I will _never_ owe him again._ "What would you do for someone you owed?"

"More than you could guess."

She looked up into his eyes, as if that would allow her to read him. It didn't. She frowned, intertwined her fingers with his, placed her head in his lap and looked up at his face. She could trace his features from here, fine and dark and beautiful. He glanced down and, when their gazes met, let them hold. There was something dark and open and smoldering in them and the sudden intensity of it, left her wide-eyed and surprised.

"I… don't think this is how normal friends hang out."

"Maybe we should try for normal, before we try for normal friendship," he said, tone curt.

She wished it didn't have to be so. She wished it didn't have to be painful or awkward or sudden or... Resisting the urge to sigh, she turned her face, her lashes coming to a rest against the fabric of his shirt.

"Your shirt smells of grass."

"That is a highly flattering compliment, Sarakshi. I don't know how I've survived so far without it."

"Cut it out, idiot." But there was a grin in her words. "You're coming to the concert, aren't you?"

"You're still trying to hook me up with your friend, aren't you?"

She scowled. "What is wrong with her? She's beautiful. Intelligent, too. Trust me, you're going to fall for her."

"It amazes me," his voice was soft. "How you can still be that naïve."

Her eyes widened. "Marjani?"

He detached her from himself. The action was neither curt nor gentle. Sarakshi sat up, a small frown on her face. "You don't tell love it has to happen, Sarakshi." His voice was flat. "It happens without suggestions and guarantees. I think –" His face was deadpan – "That you should be more worried about your love-life than about mine."

She crossed her arms against her chest. "I don't have a love-life."

"Sure doesn't seem that way to me."

"It makes me want to shake the living daylights out of you, when you speak in riddles," she scowled.

"It makes me want to shake the living daylights out of you when you _forget to tell me you were kidnapped by Kurumi Kaishu_."

It was gone. Just like that, the lighthearted, mischievous, teasing atmosphere was gone. Her eyes widened, and the air between them seemed to thicken, full of something like sudden shock and sudden anger. Sarakshi could almost taste the two in the air. Like salt and rust.

"I –"

"Were you ever going to tell me?" He hadn't raised his voice, but it had changed. It was darker. Not warm at all. "Or was it too important?"

"Of course I was! I just didn't want to bring it up all of a sudden –"

"You were looking for the right moment to tell me you were _kidnapped_?" There was a dark sort of rage in his voice.

"She didn't do anything to me –"

"She didn't manhandle, gag and bind you?"

"It sounds worse than it was –"

"I can always." His voice was dark. "Tell when you're lying."

Sarakshi flinched. There is a limit to how much a person can take, and this, right here, was hers. She had been taunted, kidnapped, stripped of her defenses, rescued, fooled by an act when she should have known better, told she was beneath Igarashi, and assigned the part of a maid in a play in which she had been the lead, all within the space of two days. She was furious, hurt, exhausted, furious, stunned, disappointed and furious. She grabbed her bag off the bench.

"I'm going home. Don't," she added, as he leaped to his feet. "Just don't, Marjani."

He had been worried. Furious. Hurt. Plain mad. Sarakshi understood all of it, without his having to put it into words; and Marjani knew she understood, without her having to put it into words. But sometimes, knowledge or understanding or friendship is not what you need.

Sometimes, it's solitude.

He stepped back.

And picking up her bag, Sarakshi turned and left.

-;-

There was a car parked outside Utsukushii Creek when she arrived outside the building. It was sleek and beautiful and a tomato red that seemed to shout for attention and, even before the door flew open and a eight inch killer heel slid into view, Sarakshi knew who it belonged to.

"Linda?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Yo." Linda flipped back her blonde hair. It fell down her back like sparkling silk, a jewelled comb holding it off her forehead. Gorgeous, too stunning to be real and so very Linda. "Come on. Sora and I have been waiting forever. Did you leave your cellphone home _again_?"

"No. It was on silent mode, though." Sarakshi flipped it open… and stared. Forty-five missed calls, all but one from Linda, the one that wasn't from her being from Sora. "Merlin, what have you been doing, woman?"

Sora stuck her head out from the car. Her hair was coming out of its hair-tier, and brown wisps of it framed her spectacles. "Hi Sara-chan. We're going shopping."

Sarakshi's jaw dropped open. "Excuse me?"

Linda pointed a manicured index finger at her. "You," she said. "Cannot wear those to the UxMishi concert."

"Of course I can," Sarakshi said, indignant. "Shorts and tops are perfectly respectable clothing."

"But Sara-chan." Sora pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and attempted to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Everyone is going to show up as their favourite character and mass cosplaying is fun and -"

"I cosplay every week, remember?" Sarakshi reminded her.

"But…" Sora pouted. "We want to have fun. With you."

Sarakshi's eyes widened. It was emotional blackmail, plain and simple. Even knowing that, she couldn't bring herself to respond with an outright no. If it had been just Linda, she could have rolled her eyes and dragged the blond to her apartment for tea. It _wasn't_ just Linda, however. It was Linda and Sora, and Sora was a different matter altogether: the brunette's eyes were as round as saucers and her hands clasped in a manner that suggested Sarakshi joining them was the most important thing in her life.

Sarakshi sighed.

"I swear, you're as manipulative as Igarashi," she muttered, as she walked up to the car.

-;-

"KYAAAAAAAAAAAA~"

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Sarakshi felt her lips curve as she adjusted the silver clasp at the front of her cloak. "The UxMishi men aren't _that _cute," she grinned.

"You kidding me?" Linda asked. "Kuuga Sakurai? Now that is cute _personified_."

It occurred to Sarakshi that Marjani Suoh was the antithesis of cute. She smiled at Linda and would have responded, if a flustered Sora had not chosen that moment to yelp an "Ouch!"

"What's wrong, Sora-chan?" Sarakshi frowned.

"I think we should link hands." It was a sign of how flustered Sora was, that her sentence was this brief and to-the-point. "I don't like this cro – Eep!" She flailed as she was almost borne off by the crowd.

Sarakshi grabbed Sora's hand and pulled her to the side in one expert movement, just as the lights dimmed and the band struck up again. Her eyes went to the stage and, able to catch just a glimpse of UxMishi before hundreds and hundreds of hands and "Kyaaaaaa~"s went up, she saw Kuuga Sakurai at the front. Besides him stood Kouma Yabu, his hair standing up in spikes, his light brown eyes enthusiastic, his signature muffler knotted around his throat.

She had a fleeting image of him standing behind Kurumi, stiff and furious and patient.

She had a fleeting image of Tora Igarashi pulling her against himself and then letting her go as if he never had.

Her eyes widened at the memory.

Then something like a frown flittered across her face.

-;-

"Sarakshi-san?"

Linda had offered her a ride home and Sarakshi, who had been about to step into the blonde's brilliant red car, paused midstep. Behind her, people - a large number of them girls in gorgeous costumes - poured out of the gigantic hall that the concert had taken place in.

Her eyes widened as she recognized the person who had addressed her.

"Kouma-san?"

Linda, who had been leaning against her car, grinned. "Don't you just know the hottest men, Sarakshi."

Kouma flashed her a pleasant smile; unlike Kuuga's, it did not come off as practiced. "I hope it wouldn't upset your plans, Linda-san, if I borrow Sarakshi-san for a couple of minutes?"

Linda grinned. "Nope. Go right ahead."

Sarakshi followed him out of earshot of Linda and Sora, her steps cautious. She didn't dislike Kouma but even so, his relation to Kurumi – whatever it was – was something she could not disregard. He neared a spot that was all trees-and-shadows and, as he did so, someone stepped out of it. Someone in a gorgeous kimono and an elegant hairdo.

"Kurumi?" Sarakshi could hear the surprise in her voice.

Kurumi took a single step forward. Then – to Sarakshi's surprise – she dropped into a bow. "I apologize." Her voice was quiet. "For everything I've done. I understand I can't make things right with just words, but I want to at least attempt it. Would you please forgive me?"

"I've never." Sarakshi's throat felt parched, all of a sudden. "Had a grudge against you."

Kurumi raised her head. Her eyes were half-hopeful, half-uncertain. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" She asked.

"I think." Sarakshi's voice was quiet. "That's for Marjani to answer."

Kurumi's eyes flickered. "I talked to him," she said. Her voice was soft and even; it was not a voice she had spoken to Sarakshi in before but even so, Sarakshi could tell it was her real voice. "Marjani and I will call of our engagement. The decision is mutual."

There was an awkward pause. Then Sarakshi said,

"I'm not sure if I'm allowed to congratulate you on that, so I'll just ask. Can I congratulate you on that?"

For the first time since Sarakshi had seen her, a smile broke over Kurumi's face. "Yes," she said. "Kouma and I –" She hesitated. "I know it's sudden –"

Sarakshi's eyes met Kouma's. "I'm glad," she said.

He inclined his head.

The wind had turned into a glacial rage. It blew her cloak about and spilled red hair over her shoulders. She needed to get going; Sarakshi gave Kurumi and Kouma a small but warm smile. "I guess all's well that ends well."

Kurumi nodded. She seemed to be steeling herself to say something; considering that she had already apologized, it was hard to guess what it might be. "Kouma and I would be honoured if you join us for the after-event," she said, as if she had been about to speak of what she wanted to speak of, and changed her mind at the last moment. "It's for the band and a few select friends. We would love to have you."

Sarakshi smiled. "I'd love to come, but one of my friends is waiting for me." She glanced over her shoulder. She could see Linda's Mercedes in the distance, a point of bright red light. "I should get back."

"If Linda-san would like to join us, she's more than welcome," Kouma said. "I'm sure she'd love to."

It was hard to worm out of that one. Not that Sarakshi wanted to. She still wasn't sure how comfortable she was around Kurumi but even so, it must have taken the brunette a truckload of courage to break off her engagement and apologize to her. It was much more than most people would have done. "I'll ask Linda –"

"Yo." Linda appeared behind them, swinging a bunch of keys. "What's taking so long, woman?"

"You weren't eavesdropping, were you?" Sarakshi grinned.

"Do I look like someone who can eavesdrop?" Linda's smile would have made the devil proud.

Sarakshi grinned. "Kurumi and Kouma-san would like us to join the after-event. I expect you're onboard?"

"Of course," Linda grinned. "I'm just the girl you need to brighten things up."

"That's settled, then." Kouma straightened up. He placed a hand on Kurumi's shoulder. "Shall we go?"

Kurumi hesitated and, once again, Sarakshi had the feeling that she was steeling herself to speak her mind. "You two go ahead. There's something I would like to talk to Sarakshi about."

Kouma did not ask. "Of course. Linda-san?"

Linda looked to Sarakshi. "You alright with that?"

It sometimes surprised Sarakshi how perceptive Linda was. (She doubted Linda was even close to clueless about all the things she did not tell the blonde.) She nodded. "I'll join you two in a bit."

"You had better. You don't want me to cause your cellphone to ring up a storm, do you?" Linda waved, turned around and left. Sarakshi saw their figures – Kouma's. Linda's – grow smaller until the two of them disappeared in the darkness.

"Sarakshi…" Kurumi sounded uncertain.

"You don't have to say it," Sarakshi said quietly. "I understand."

Kurumi shook her head. "I have to," she said. "You were… you were right. I was selfish. I still am," she added, her smile wry. "But I hope, a different kind." She paused and the silence stretched between them, filling up the gaps in the conversation with all sort of amazing things. "I'm glad you said what you said, that night. It was ruthless and mean and furious, but it was true and I needed to hear it. Thank you."

"I said it for Marjani." Sarakshi's voice was soft.

"I know." Kurumi smiled. It was a quiet sort of smile. "I get what he sees in you, now. Even after all that happened, you said what you said for Marjani's sake. Kouma's. Mine. Not for your own. Not because you were furious and wanted to get back at me."

Sarakshi's eyes widened. "Kurumi…"

"Let me finish." Kurumi sounded, Sarakshi realized, close to tears. "I don't like admitting I was wrong any more than you like listening to me say it. But this isn't for you. This is for me. I need to hear myself say these words out. I did tell you." Her smile was bitter. "That I'm selfish."

Sarakshi stepped forward and took her hand. "This is a good kind of selfish, though," she said, the words soft.

"I know." Kurumi repeated. "I…" She paused. "I just want you to know that the me you saw that night. It wasn't the real me. People say a lot of crap about people showing their true selves in anger, and it's exactly that – a lot of crap. People don't show their true selves in anger. Just their ugliest bits. None of us is a saint here. You're out of control and you just want to hurt the other person. You'll say whatever you thinks will hurt them most. You'll treat them in the manner you know they'll most resent. It's not who you are. Just who you become because you want something so badly, it's like a hole in your chest."

She straightened up and brushed the tears out of her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Thank you," she said. "For making me realize what I was doing to Marjani. To Kouma. To myself."

Their gazes held and, for several moments, neither of them spoke. Then Sarakshi said,

"Your kimono is nice."

Kurumi grinned. "I know that, too." She held out a hand. "Shall we go inside?"

-;-

The first thing that came to Sarakshi's mind when she stepped inside the hall for the after-event, was that breathtaking was too small a word for how beautiful it looked.

Glass. Silver. Cream cloth. The three unfurled around her to make up each table and each chair and each light; the people inside seemed to come alive against the beautiful backdrop.

"Do you like it?" Kurumi asked.

"It's stunning," Sarakshi breathed.

Something like a blush graced Kurumi's face. "The idea was mine," she said. "Kuuga and Kouma both thought it sounded beautiful."

"Kuuga and Kouma have good taste," Sarakshi grinned.

The blush returned. "Would you." Kurumi hesitated. "Marjani is here. Would you like to join him?"

Sarakshi blinked. "Marjani is here?" she asked.

"I invited him last night." Kurumi rubbed her cheek. "He's over there."

For a moment, Sarakshi had half a mind to go up to him and demand to know the reason he hadn't told her all that had happened - the talk with Kurumi, the resolution of the engagement, the fact that he _was_ going to attend the concert. Then it occurred to her that there was a good chance he would have, if she hadn't "forgotten" to tell him about being kidnapped. Not to mention, walked out on him that morning. She had the good grace to accept, at least in her mind, that most of _that_ mess was her fault.

"I think I should talk to him," she said.

Kurumi smiled. "Have fun."

"You, too."

Kurumi floated off, as Sarakshi headed for the table the brunette had pointed out. Upon nearing it, she realized two things. The first was that Marjani was not alone.

The second was that one of the people with him was Tora Igarashi.

Tora Igarsahi in _costume_.

Most of the people seated around the table (she recognized Kuuga Sakurai and his rose-haired girlfriend) looked up at the same time. Her eyes met Marjani's, and she realized it was a little too late to turn around and leave.

"Sarakshi." Marjani rose to his feet.

Igarashi had not looked up at her arrival; he was leaning forward in his chair to talk to a tall girl with jet-black hair. The knowledge that the sight irked her, irked Sarakshi. "Can I have a minute?" She asked. For a moment, she thought Marjani – _Marjani _– would tell her not now. Then he excused himself and she realized Marjani Suoh was too much of a gentleman to ever tell a girl, not now.

He led her to an alcove set in a far corner of the hall. Pillars screened the spot and Sarakshi had a suspicion that it had, in the past, been used for more than just private conversation.

"What is it?"

His voice was flat; eyes, dark. Shutters, she thought. Shutters all over again.

"Why aren't you in a costume?" she frowned.

He raised an eyebrow. "And this," he said. "Is what you had me leave my table for?"

"What were you expecting, an early Christmas present?"

His eyes narrowed. "What is wrong with you?"

Sarakshi frowned. "I wanted to apologize, but I decided not to. Is that such a big deal?"

He reached forward and pulled her to him. "You don't have to apologize to me." He paused. "I asked what's wrong with you, Sarakshi."

She placed a hand against his chest. Sometimes, she hated how right being with Marjani Suoh felt. "Nothing's wrong," she said and she wasn't sure if it was a truth or a lie. "Why aren't you in a costume?"

"I am." His voice was dry. "I'm Marjani Suoh."

Her lips tugged up into a smile; she tilted her face to look up into his. "I'm glad you are," she said, the words soft.

The light that filtered into the alcove dimmed and both of them turned around at the same time. Igarashi and the girl he had been talking to earlier stood at the entrance; her hair fall fell down her shoulders in a gorgeous black waterfall and her eyes held a spark of curious interest as she took in Sarakshi.

"Kuuga is asking about you," Tora drawled. He was wearing a captain's suit and his cap was tilted at an angle, shading his eyes. "I hope Yuki and I didn't…" His eyes lingered on the arm around Sarakshi's waist in a manner that made Sarakshi's cheeks flame. "Disturb you two."

"Of course not." Marjani did not remove his arm. His tone was low and lethal and not, Sarakshi realized, a tone he adopted with her now, not ever. She saw Yuki take a step closer to Igarashi. "I'll be with you in a moment. Would you like to join us, Sarakshi?"

"No." Sarakshi forced herself to smile. "I'll find Kurumi."

Marjani didn't move.

"Go." Her voice was sure. "Go ahead."

Their eyes met.

Then he nodded and stepped back.

-;-

Sarakshi stood there after Marjani had left, fiddling with the clasp of her cloak as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

It was not until a minute later that she realized that it was dark because no light was filtering into the alcove; and no light was filtering into the alcove because someone was blocking the entrance. Her eyes widened. She turned around in a whirl of coal-black cloak and scarlet hair.

"Igarashi." Her voice was steel. "What are you doing here?"

"She has more to show." Tora leaned in and touched the clasp that held her cloak together. "Here."

Sarakshi's cheeks flushed. "What the hell," she said, through gritted teeth. "Are you talking about?"

"The character you're cosplaying," he drawled.

His cap was pulled low over his forehead, and his hair fell into his eyes, and she could feel her hands clench into fists. She hated it, the ambivalence, the anger, the distance, all of it."I don't see why." Her voice was cold. "That should be of any concern to you."

Her eyes were cold. It occurred to him that he had never seen her eyes _cold_ before - warm, surprised, panicked, content, smiling, a plethora of adjectives, but never cold - and it occurred to him that he didn't like the coldness. He straightened up, his hands in the pockets of his slacks."You seem miffed, Ishin," he said lazily. "Did you, perhaps, read your new script? I thought it would be fit to assign you a role that is… at your level."

"I'm glad our levels are separate, Igarashi." Her voice was still cold. "Because if being at your level means thinking like you, I would rather –"

He gathered a fistful of her cloak and pulled her to him. She had been fiddling with the clasp for a while and when he grabbed it, it came undone. The cloak slipped off her shoulders. She wore a red top underneath it and the words_ Sleep. Eat. Judo_. were printed across it in white letters. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice wicked. "Isn't that just adorable."

She shoved him; he caught both her arms and held them above her head with one hand in a grip that was just a little firmer than necessary.

"Don't even try, commoner," he drawled. His free hand came to rest next to her head, on the wall. "Pinning techniques are my strength. I'm a..." He dropped his mouth to her ear. "Submission specialist."

She glared at him. When she spoke, her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Yes, Igarashi. You have a _wonderful_ sense of worldplay -"

He covered her body with his and kissed her. Not kissed her. Crushed his lips against her. She might have struggled against him; he wouldn't have known. He could hear the thud of her heart, and feel the frenzied rise and fall of her chest against his, and taste her lips. He let go of her arms and drew her cloak around her. "If you knew half the things I have a wonderful sense of, Ishin," he whispered, his breath hot on her lips. "You wouldn't dare to stand in front of me, again."

"I -" She was panicked and stunned and breathless. Panicked and stunned and breathless... and tired of his tricks. If he wanted to play rough, she would give him rough. She narrowed her eyes and then – to his surprise; to his absolute astonishment – she did what no girl had ever done to him before: she flipped their positions and slammed _him_ into a wall. It would never have worked, if she hadn't had the element of infinite surprise on her side. She did, however. His back met the wall with a _thud_; she grabbed his shoulders and pinned him to it. "I want to know how much of this is an act, Igarashi," she whispered.

She was... beyond unpredictable. He would have been entertained at her control of the situation, if her question had not followed it. Did she still expect to find some good in him? The fact that she refused to label him, messed up his rhythm. He leaned back against the wall as if he had chosen the spot because it was comfortable, and met her gaze. "I had no idea you had a dominant side," he said lazily. "Go ahead. Entertain me."

She yanked his tie and pulled it so that his face was level with hers. "I'm tired of your games." Her voice was calm. "_How much of this is an act, Igarashi?_"

His hand rose to brush her cheek. He traced a finger down her cheek, her collarbone, her neck. The touch was gentle: it surprised him that he _wanted_ to be gentle. Her eyes were as huge as saucers. She had never been a good planner: her skin was flushed, and he could tell she had never given any thought to what his response would be - she had banked on the element of surprise to get an answer out of him. "Aren't you entertaining," he murmured, his lips against her heated skin.

"Does it sadden you," she whispered, shoving him back with both hands and twisting his arm behind his back. "That you aren't even that?"

He looked down at the arm holding his behind his back and smirked, an amused smirk. How much of it _was_ an act? When had it turned from the thrill of the chase to something that affected him? When had it stopped mattering what her societal rank or job was? He didn't have answers and dammit, he didn't want answers.

"Does it sadden you that I don't care?" He drawled.

Her eyes widened; her grip on his arm, loosened.

"Did you want me, for a second there?" He smirked. "Because I wouldn't take someone as low as you, if I had to."

"Tora?" Both of them looked up at the sound of a beautiful voice: the girl with the jet-black hair stood in the entrance. Sarakshi stepped back. "Oh." The girl's eyes flicked from Sarakshi to Tora, and back. "I didn't mean to interrupt a conversation. I'm terribly sorr –"

"You didn't, Yuki." Hands in the pockets of his slacks, Tora straightened up with perfect elegance. "Is something the matter?"

"Matter? Oh no." Yuki's smile was beautiful. "I was wondering where you were."

"I apologize for worrying you." Stepping up to her, he took his hand and brushed his lips against the top of it. "Shall we leave?"

"Of course," Yuki smiled.

_Did you want me, for a second there? Because I wouldn't take someone as low as you, if I had to._

Sarakshi could have let him leave like that. Should have let him leave like that.

"That was such a pathetic lie, Igarashi," she said softly, as he and Yuki reached the entrance. "Even I could see through it."

He stilled.

Then he placed his hand on the small of Yuki's back and stepped out without a backward glance.

-;-

It took Marjani less than two seconds, when Tora sat down at the table, to know that something had happened. There was a mixture of frustration and desire in Tora's eyes, even though when the Student Council President leaned forward to address Yuki, there was a half smile crossing his features.

Face unreadable, Marjani rose to his feet. Sarakshi was not in the hall. He stepped outside, into the night air cold, and scanned the gardens. The wind had picked up but, other than it, nothing stirred.

"She and Kurumi went to join Kouma," a voice said.

He turned around. Linda Williams stood there. Her hair was braided to one side, and she was wearing a schoolgirl costume that no schoolgirl would have worn to school, the skirt showing off a pair of long legs, and half the shirt buttons open to flaunt her cleavage.

"I'm afraid," Marjani's tone was flat. "That I don't understand, Linda-san."

"It's Linda," she said lazily. Then, as his gaze locked with hers, she added, "Don't. You do intimidate me."

His eyes flickered. He had never been oblivious to the fact that he could be – and often was – intimidating, but no one had admitted it to his face. "I'm glad to see," he could hear the sarcasm in his voice. "That I haven't lost the skill yet."

She smiled and it was more of a grin. "It's her, isn't it?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Sarakshi," she said lazily. "You're in love with her."

"And that concerns you because?" The tone of his voice was her one warning not to take the topic further.

She grinned. "I wanted to ask ya out," she said. "Granted, you scared the hell out of me. But –" She grinned again – "Maybe that _was_ why I wanted to. I suppose." She paused. "I understand some things better, now."

"I'm all ears." His voice was sarcastic.

"Such as," she said, as if he hadn't spoken. "The fact that she would return your feelings if she could."

"I see."

She looked up into his face. Perhaps she had hit a nerve. Perhaps he was displeased. Perhaps he was about to walk off. There was something deadpan and feral and intimidating about him. Damn, she liked it. "And that," she said, her words a tad softer. "That you'd rather she didn't."

"Do go on." His voice was cool. "I can't wait to hear what theories you've come up with."

Linda frowned. "I get it. I'm not welcome. But." She smiled. "It's true. There's something in your face when you talk to her. Like you think you're not good enough for her. Like you know she isn't yours. Perhaps both."

He couldn't, Marjani thought to himself, have put what she had just said in so many words, if any words at all. Sarakshi didn't want him and he knew she didn't and that was that. Tora wanted her and she wanted him and that, too, was that. "Has it occurred to you." His voice was not nice. "That you might be pushing yourself headfirst into trouble?"

She grinned. "Do I look like I can resist trouble?"

He made no effort to respond; his face was unreadable. Her eyebrows came together in a frown.

"If you want to let her go, why still hold on?" She asked.

"Because." His tone was flat. "We can't all do what we want to do."

"Then perhaps you should…" She stepped in front of him. Into what had, until a moment ago, been his personal space. "Start trying."

"Now is not a good time." His voice was her one warning to get the hell out of there. "To invite me, woman."

Linda Williams had never been naïve or oblivious. There was something dark, something prowling, something dangerous about Marjani Suoh. Something that told you that the last person you wanted for a foe, was him. She looked up at him and knew that something was _exactly_ what she wanted.

"It's as good a time as any," she said.

Then she pushed him into a wall and kissed him.

It was her choice and her decision but, even so, if things had been normal, Marjani would have removed her hands from his neck and stepped back. There was nothing normal about these circumstances, though. His back met the wall... and before it did, he had pulled her against his chest, cupped the back of her head with a hand, gripped her shoulder with the other, and deepened the kiss. His lips were rough on hers and passionate. Not passionate. More than passionate. His feelings, ages of want and desire and frustration and disappointment and anger and need, all pent-up, all bottled for what seemed so long, seemed to come out in one, mad rage.

Then he realized what he was doing: taking it all out on a girl. He broke the kiss and stepped back; there were shadows under his eyes and his lips were bruised. "I apologize." His voice sounded rough and haggard and full of gravel.

She looked up at him. "That was…" She swallowed. Then she did the last thing he had expected her to do: she grinned.

"That was bloody excellent," she announced. "You wanna do it again?"

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_HAPPY NEW YEAR, AWESOME PEOPLE._

_I hope everyone is doing great. This is the first year in aaaages that I didn't make any resolutions. I hope it turns out awesome, though. For me aaaand for everyone else. =)  
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_This chapter went sort of out-of-control and wrote itself. O_o It ended up having so much more emotion than I'd intended putting into it. So maybe something something softer/ gentler in the next one? *_*_

_Thank YOU to everyone who left a review. You guys inspiiire me to update as quickly as I can. *hugs* Bebe17, HMOrange216, ChuGaEun, ulqui x, Farynx99, gamma-rae-star, echizenochi, Trickster707, sherlin, choco-chan143, andd Que9._

_Ally. :D :D I like the flash mob dance move. I do._

_magicme. I do, I dooo! I loves him. =3 Now I want to write a Yunoki-centered fic. Except that if I did, Yunoki would be super evil and super bad. Evil-er and bad-er, I mean. *eyes him*  
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_Ministreld. Because different people have different talents. And I'm absolutely certain you have yours. =)_

_Aishwarya. Aww. I'm glad there are Sarakshi/ Marjani shippers, too. =) and I'm not living in Kashmir so yees. I'z fine. Thank you for asking. *_*_

_Reviews make for awesome New Year's gifts. [/end of subliminal message]  
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	18. i knew rooms full of Ashes

**c h a p t e r e i g h t e e n  
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**i knew rooms full of ASHES.  
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"Will that be all, Headmaster?"

"Yes." Seated behind a polished office desk, Miyabigaoka's Headmaster brought his hands together so that the fingertips of each, touched the fingertips of the other. "I expect you to do the best that you can: it would not be appropriate if Miyabigaoka were to lose to a school like Seiso."

"Of course, Headmaster. You can rest assured that our Open House will be far superior to theirs."

The headmaster nodded. He did not doubt that it would be: Tora was as capable a student as a student could be. The council he led was efficient and more than up to the task of showing a school such as Seiso that it could not affect Miyabigoka with its foolish plan to arrange its Open House Tour on the same date as Miyabigoka had arranged its. Even so…

"And Tora?"

Hand on the doorknob, Tora turned. "Sir?"

"Has the team found a replacement for Ishin-san, yet?"

"We have." Tora's face was a perfect mask. "Linda Williams. She is an excellent actress: I have no doubt that she will do her best."

She was also a bit of a... free spirit. That was fine with the Headmaster, however, as long as she could impress the Suohs. "I see." He paused. "I am certain you understand how important this Open House will be for the school."

Tora did. Of course he did. The school's board of governors attended the tour, along with hundreds of prospective students and several dozen media personalities. That meant mistakes did not just mean the loss of potential students: mistakes could mean the loss of Miyabigaoka's near-flawless reputation. "I want there to be no glitches."

"The students will not disappoint you, sir."

The headmaster nodded. Tora turned the doorknob and stepped out, letting the door swing shut behind him with a soft _thud_.

"Took you long enough," Maki said.

Tora glanced at his friend: Maki was leaning against the wall. There had been a smile on his face (wasn't there always a smile on his face when he was around people who did not know him as long as some had? Kanade Maki did not just hide his feelings: he _converted_ them.) though it vanished now.

"The old man is worried," Tora said; the old man being the Headmaster. "He considers Seiso's decision a challenge." Not that there was anything to consider: Seiso's decision _was_ a challenge. The high school which had never beaten Miyabigaoka in anything (though it hadn't given up attempting to, yet) _wanted_ the attention such a move would give birth to. It also wanted, Tora thought with narrowed eyes, to steal a portion of the traffic that Miyabigaoka saw each year.

Maki could have said that it _was_ a challenge. He knew Tora knew that, however, and Tora knew that Maki knew. The two of them walked to the grounds in silence, until Maki chose to break it with a different topic altogether.

"I hear Crème Maid has something of an event planned at the Carlton, tomorrow evening."

"I see." Tora's response was brief.

"Tora."

Maki had paused. Tora half-turned his head to neet his friend's gaze.

"Is something the matter, Kanade?"

"You don't intend to go." It was not a question; it was a statement.

If it had been anyone else, Tora would have made it more than clear that it was none of their business. It was not anyone else, however; it was Maki. When he spoke, then, his voice was cool and even and emotionless altogether. "No, I do not, Kanade. Will that be all?"

Maki did not move. "I presume you've accomplished whatever you wanted to accomplish? If that is the case, I need no longer keep tabs on her."

I _presume_. There was a question somewhere in that word, Tora was quite well aware. What had he set out to accomplish? Her acceptance that she was not a match for him. What _had_ he accomplished?

He would have liked to know himself.

Tora Igarashi had always prided himself on the fact that he did not lose touch with what was real. And what was real right now, was the fact that there had been no place for emotions in his plan. Not for _his _emotions, that was. Hers? Yes. That was what the plan had been intended to thrive on. His? Those were supposed to have been limited to amusement and satisfaction.

Perhaps it was time he admitted he might have lost track of that goal.

She... entertained him. It was true. But she also infuriated and calmed him. It irked him that she fought for what she believed in, even when she did not have the resources to fight. It irked him that she did not label. It irked him that she was content with life. It irked him that when she smiled, her smile was warm and gentle. It irked him that she did not even _think _of planning before she acted. It irked him that she was foolish and naïve and warm and gentle and willing to labour and able to look after she had leapt and content and in peace.

Things he had never been.

"You need not," he said.

If he had veered off the track, he would just have to retrace his steps.

-;-

"Marjani."

Marjani closed the book he had been reading with the lightest of touches. Then he rose to his feet and walked to the half-open door of his bedroom.

"Mother." His voice was impassive.

"There's someone here to see you. You had better go down."

"Who is it?" Her voice had held a mixture of uncertainty and hope when she had said that first sentence; and that surprised him. He knew his mother too well to think she would be uncertain over a usual visitor.

"One of your newer friends, it seems." Mrs. Suoh frowned as if she wasn't quite sure what to think. "Well then, I have business to attend to. I'll see you at lunch."

She turned around. With half a frown, Marjani set down the book. Descended the staircase. Stepped into the hall.

Froze.

"Yo." Dressed in an outfit no sane girl would have worn in winter - a short skirt and an off-the-shoulder top without a wrap or tights - Linda Williams grinned at him from the table. She was seated in a chair that she was tipping backwards, and her hair fell over an eye. "Surprise."

"Remind me when." His voice was cold. "I invited you."

"Ya didn't." She slid to her feet. High heels clicked against the floor as she walked up to him. "I invited myself. Thought I needed to cheer myself up right before exam season started and all." She swept past him and up the stairs. "So. Where's your bedroom?"

"I see. I assume you also have -" there was a definite trace of sarcasm in his voice "- an agenda set out for us?"

He had chosen to ignore the latter part of what she had said a minute ago; she chose to ignore the latter part of what he had just now. She looked down at the doorknob nearest to her; the alphabets M & S were carved into it. MS. Marjani Suoh? "This it?" She asked.

"You're not welcome." His voice was flat.

She turned around to face him. "So this _is_ your bedroom?"

He ought to have told her he did not have time for her. Marjani was too much of a gentleman to do that, however. Face impassive, he held open the door for her. She was aware that he would never have held it open, had he not been the kind to not keep ladies standing. That did not, however, mean that she was not going to take advantage of the offer.

She stepped inside and allowed her gaze to scan the room for a few brief seconds. Then she walked up to his collection of CD's and ran a finger over the glass showcase.

"I didn't expect you'd be a Mozart fan," she said.

"Has it occurred to you." He stepped in and let the door close behind himself. "That that is none of your business?"

She turned around to look at him. That manner of his was... intimidating. Even though she had a feeling he hadn't even attempted to intimidate her yet. "If I were one of the nice girls, I'd take offense at that." She walked up to him, hands tucked in the pockets of her top. "You should be glad that I'm not."

Then she pushed him onto the bed.

His back met the mattress with a hard _thud_ and she propped herself up on her elbows on top of him, hazel-green eyes quite, quite interested. He was... more than good-looking. Dark-skinned and powerful and sometimes venomous. She traced his jawline - it was strong; harder than she had expected and that, she thought, was saying something - with her fingertips. "You're beautiful," she whispered.

"I'm in love with your best friend," he drawled.

"You should get rid of that shirt," she said. "It's obstructing my view."

There was a moment of silence in which her heart beat just a little too fast for the mask she wore - the mask of perfect composure - to work. He saw through it with perfect ease; and she was aware that he did.

Then he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

Grabbed the front of her top and flipped them over.

-;-

"Sarakshi-chan~"

Stepping into the staff area at Crème Maid, Sarakshi set down her bag on the counter. "Hi, Manilla-san. Hianta-san. I hope I'm not late." She'd left her judogi at the dojo and realized it ten minutes after she had left the place: she had had to drive back at what had seemed like the speed of light, to retrieve it.

"You're just in the nick of time," Manilla smiled.

Sarakshi glanced at the clock. While the manager had never rushed her, she knew she needed to change within the next five or so minutes if she wanted to start on time. "I'll get changed then," she said with a warm smile of her own. "See you in a bit, Manilla-san."

She would have turned around and headed for the dressing room, if Manilla's voice had not stopped her.

"Oh and before I forget, Sarakshi-chan… I received a call from one of Hoseki's representatives."

Sarakshi turned around. "Hoseki?" She asked, surprised. "The fashion brand?"

"Yes~" Manilla gave a vigorous nod of her head. "The owner's daughter. Satsuki-san. She asked if we'd like to work with them for the launch of their new lines of stores. It seems she visited Crème Maid once and she loves our menu."

"Wouldn't it be a grand event, though?" Sarakshi asked. While it spanned a considerable area, she doubted Crème Maid was large enough to hold the kind of inaugural event a brand as well-known as Hoseki would want to throw. "How would everyone fit in here?"

"It's not going to happen _here_," Manilla chuckled. "It's happening in some expensive old mansion Hoseki-san's hired. We'll just be required to provide and serve the food. I wanted to agree at once –" Her eyes shined and Sarakshi could tell the manager liked the idea of the attention and traffic such a collaboration would generate for the café – "But I told her I'd have to get back to her, after I asked the rest of the team. Do you think you can make it?"

Sarakshi couldn't have said no, if she wanted to: she knew how much such a venture would mean to Manilla. "Of course," she said, at once. Then... "When is the event?"

Manilla giggled. "It's tonight."

Tonight? Half a frown flickered across Sarakshi's face. The people at Hoseki couldn't be that disorganized, could they? "That's a short notice, isn't it?" She frowned. "What if we hadn't been able to meet their demands?"

Manilla nodded. "She apologized for the short notice. It seems Hoseki had had an arrangement with a well-known caterer but it fell through at the last moment. She could have gone to another reputed caterer but she likes Crème Maid and decided to offer us the deal, before looking elsewhere." Then her eyes brightened. "You're in then, right? The rest of the team is~"

Sarakshi bit her lip. "Manilla-san…"

Manilla's eyes widened. "Is something wrong?"

"No. It's just that." She eyed her schoolbag. "I have an exam tomorrow. I don't think I can make it, tonight."

Manilla's face fell. "Oh." There was a pause. Then she smiled, a warm smile. "It's fine, Sarakshi-chan. I know how hard you're working at your new school. This isn't more important than your studies. I'll just let Satsuki-san know we can't accept."

Sarakshi's eyes widened. "You can't do that!" She protested. "I'm sure you all can handle things just fine. The rest of the team _has_ to go."

Manilla shook her head. "Satsuki-san said she had a condition, after I told her I would get back to her. She wants all of us there. It seems there will be a large number of guests there; we have a small team as if it, and if it's short of even one person, we might not be able to work in an efficient manner. So the point is non-negotiable." She saw the look on Sarakshi's face and smiled. "Don't fret over it, Sarakshi-chan~ I know Crème Maid is new but you've all made it an awesome~ place~ Just you wait and see. Offers like this will be pouring in from all directions, in a few more months."

"No." Sarakshi shook her head. She could feel Manilla's disappointment and she knew she did not want to. Crème Maid's chief had welcomed and helped her, and treated her like a friend; she could not just forget that. "You can't miss this chance, Manilla-san. I'll come."

"You can't do that." For once, Manilla's voice was firm. "I can't let you, Sarakshi-chan. You have to work hard at school."

Sarakshi crossed her arms against her chest. "It's final. We're all going to have fun tonight. I _want_ to do this, Manilla-san."

"But your exam –"

"I'll be fine." Sarakshi smiled, a warm smile. "I'm not an honour student for just anything, am I?"

It _was_ true.

She just hoped she wasn't going to have to eat those words.

-;-

The mansion Hoseki had chosen to host the inaugural event was a mix of traditional Japanese and modern western tastes. Standing in the middle of the large room in which all the dressing rooms the Crème Maid staff had been allotted opened, Sarakshi could inhale the scent of new paint and old wood.

"Eee~" Manilla squealed. "This room is gorgeous."

"Huge, more like," Fumiko said. She turned around to show off her dress. "How does it look? Satsuki-san must have really done her homework. The outfits she's chosen for us suit us so well."

"You look good, Fumi-san," Hianta said. "Green suits you."

_Satsuki-san must have really done her homework_. Sarakshi glanced at the box that held hers, with a frown on her face. The dresses were identical – strapless and mid-thigh-length – except for their colours. She wondered what colour hers was. Tucking the box under an arm, she opened the door of one of the dressing rooms - large; but vacant except for a full-length mirror - and stepped into it. She removed the lid off the box, reached inside it to pick up the dress and hold it up… and frowned. It was a vivid scarlet, but that was not what made her eyebrows knit together.

It was the fact that the dress wasn't strapless, like all the others had been.

It had broad straps adorned with golden roses.

She looked down at the box. There was a wrap in there and, attached to the wrap, a note. Picking it up with a caution that she had come to associate with one person and one person alone, she let her eyes take in the words written on the note.

_Compliments of T. I._

"You look gorgeous, Sara-chan!" Fumiko breathed, the moment Sarakshi stepped out. "Though..." She frowned. "I think there's been a mistake. Your dress has straps."

"Yes." Sarakshi said. She looked from her dress to Fumiko's and Hianta's and Manilla's. She looked from her dress to the four still hanging on the wall. She looked from her dress to the wall... and resisted the urge to swear at the fact that hers was a good two inches shorter.

"Yes," she said. "Perhaps there was a mix-up."

_Damn well there wasn't._

-;-

He could have gone easier on her. She would, after all, have had to face him sooner or later tonight. Tora doubted that would have been as much fun, however. He could imagine the mixture of emotions on her face – anger and fierceness and embarrassment – right now.

He had known she would accept: it was just like her to forget that she needed to put in some effort into her studies if she didn't want to lose that scholarship that was keeping her at Miyabigaoka and agree to something, for the sake of someone she _worked_ for.

It didn't matter.

The point was that she would look delicious in that dress.

The sound of a ringtone caused him to look down at Yuki. She let go of his arm to retrieve her cellphone from her clutch. "Excuse me for a moment." Flipping open the cover to accept the call, she gave him a smile before she turned around and exited the 'shop' the two of them had been standing in.

"Perhaps now would be the time to choose a surprise for her," the young shopkeeper suggested.

He half-turned to take in the shelves stacked with jewels and gemstones. Hoseki had set up a number of mock shops – which the guests would be allowed to visit in an hour or so (His father's friendship with Hoseki's owner meant he was allowed to visit, before the set time) – in the gardens. The plan was to provide the guests a look at what Hoseki would offer, as a retailer of jewellery.

"Perhaps." He met the young woman's gaze and held it. "What would you suggest?"

His manner and voice implied that her suggestion would be of the utmost significance, and two faint spots of pink appeared on the saleswoman's cheeks. "Oh." She said. She collected herself; lifted a jeweled box off a shelf; and placed it in front of him with the utmost care. "Perhaps you would like a piece from this set." She said. "Diamond earrings. The perfect gift for a beautiful girlfriend."

Diamond earrings. How... uncreative. Tora ran a finger over the box. "Perhaps something else," he murmured.

Her face fell. Then changed into a smile when he smiled at her. "Of course," she said. "How about that piece over –"

But Tora was no longer listening. His eyes had fallen on a box placed on the right of the glass counter. It contained a beautiful necklace: a delicate white-gold chain which had the words _meus ignis_ woven across the front in the finest of red diamond letters; and an intricate clasp at the back.

__Meus ignis_. _He thought of her, all undone black cloak and spilled scarlet hair, and his eyes flickered.

"This one," he said.

The woman stopped, in the middle of what she had been relating about some item or the other. Her eyes went to the piece and then she shook her head. "I'm afraid we're not selling that, sir."

"Not selling that or –" He locked his gaze with hers. "Not selling that yet?"

Her eyes widened. She was too taken in to keep quiet, however. "The truth is." She hesitated. "It's one of the last pieces our most famous jeweller has worked on. There are no duplicates and it's expected to fetch a much greater price in the future."

"Pack it," he drawled.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid I can't do that, sir –"

He placed a credit card on the counter. "If it's the price you're concerned about, go ahead and deduct twice what it's worth." Or thrice. It didn't matter. It was the necklace that he wanted.

He saw her eyes widen. Then she hesitated, again. "I'll have to ask –"

"I'll talk to Tsukimori Hoseki." He walked up to her and took her chin between a thumb and an index finger. It was not a curt action; it was gentle. "Do you trust me to do that?"

"I –" For one moment, she looked panicked. Then she nodded. "Yes. Of course."

He let go of her chin. She packed up the necklace and took his credit card. The moment she had handed both back, he turned around and left. In time to see Yuki – her delicate, beautiful smile still in place – return.

"It was Kurumi," she said. Her cheeks were pink with the cold: the mansion had central heating but the gardens did - it went without saying - not. "She wanted to know if she's missing out on something."

He cupped her cheek and lifted her face. "I have to make a private call," he murmured. "Give me five minutes."

"Of course. I'll look in the shops to see if I can find something Kurumi might like." She smiled up at him and floated off. She walked with the kind of grace few ever achieve.

He waited until she had gone. Then he called Hoseki.

Trust mattered in business, after all.

-;-

"Manilla-san, I'd like you to meet Yuki-san and Tora-san," Satsuki said, her voice warm. "Yuki-san, Tora-san… The manager of Crème Maid."

Manilla smiled. "Nice to meet you two."

Tora took her hand and brushed his lips against the top of it. "The pleasure is all mine," he murmured.

Manilla giggled. Wasn't this young man just Mr. Magazine. "You're a flatterer, Igarashi-san," she giggled.

"Isn't he just." Yuki smiled, a smile as beautiful as her voice. "I hear you're an excellent chef, Manilla-san. Is that true?"

"To an extent, yes." Manilla grinned. "I haven't had time to improve since I started running Crème Maid, though. If you like cooking, though, perhaps you would like to talk to Sarakshi. I know for a fact that she's a fantastic cook."

"Sarakshi." Yuki repeated the word, with a certain curious softness. She tilted her face to look up at Tora. "I do believe you know her."

"I do believe I do." He raised both of her hands to her lips and kissed them. "Excuse me for a minute. I've seen someone I should greet."

Yuki's gaze followed him until he disappeared into the crowd.

-;-

If she saw him, if she saw him even _once_, she was going to kill him. Stepping out of the vacant room that connected the dressing rooms – her earring had come lose. She had had to drop in on her way from the kitchen to the main hall, to fix it – with a serving tray balanced on one hand, Sarakshi resisted the urge to mutter under her breath.

"My, my. What were you doing inside with a sundae, Ishin?" a lazy voice asked.

She stilled in the arch of the half-open door.

"Do I know you?" She said, voice cool.

There was a chocolate sundae balanced on her left palm: she couldn't have blocked him, if she had wanted to. Tora was more than aware of that little piece of information. He pushed her into the dressing room; the door swung shut behind them with a soft _click_ as her back met the wall.

"Intimately," he whispered.

"Because we spend _so_ much time together, don't we?" There was enough sarcasm in her voice to have killed, could tones do so. "Get out of my way, Igarashi. Or I _will_ throw this sundae at you."

"Yes, Ishin. I'm sure that's very…" He lifted the spoon on the tray, scooped sundae into it, brought it to his mouth, and swallowed. "Mature of you."

"I am." Her eyes were shining with anger. "Dead serious."

He placed a hand next to her head, on the wall. "You wouldn't want to cause a ruckus, would you now?" He said. "Think of all the negative attention it would mean for Crème Maid. I, of course –" a smirk flashed across his face – "Would be gone by the time the noise could even begin to attract attention."

He was right. She wouldn't throw the sundae at him. She couldn't, not if she wanted to_ not_ create a mess for Manilla and the rest of the team. "Jerk."

"Is that how you…" He traced her jawline with a finger. "Speak to a master? I did.. outfit you, after all."

Her eyes flashed. "I know you have money to waste, Igarashi, but even I wouldn't have thought you would waste it to convince someone to hire a café's staff. Then again." She smiled, an oh-so-sweet smile. "I suppose that's about as much class as you'll ever have."

The little spitfire. "I didn't have to spend a dime, Ishin." There was a grin lurking about his mouth. "You see, Hoseki-san's daughter is a _very_ good friend of mine." He paused, and the pause was sinful. It could not have been clearer that Hoseki's daughter had not been a good friend – let alone a very good friend – before tonight. "Then again, I suppose people like you can't help jumping to the conclusion that everything has to do with money. Must have something to do with not having…" He brought his mouth to her ear. "Class."

Sarakshi's eyes narrowed. How could he speak like that, when it was no secret he used monetary influence half the time, when he needed to get something done? "You're one to talk." She motioned to the space – or, to be precise, the lack of space – between them. "What do you call it, again? Ah, yes. Utter lack of class."

"I can't believe the heel came off." Fumiko's voice sounded outside the door. "Thanks for accompanying me, Mani-chan. I'll handle it from here."

"I'll come with you, Fumi-chan~" Manilla's voice was super sweet. "You can change into another pair of heels and…"

Sarakshi's eyes widened. Fumiko and Manilla were going to enter the dressing room in less than a minute. "Get out of my way." She hissed at Igarashi. "Now."

He glanced at the door in a manner that was utter laziness. "Now that _is_ a bother," he mused, as if he had all the time in the world and a day, and not less than fifteen seconds, to come up with a solution. "It wouldn't be fitting for me to be seen with one of the…" His eyes lingered on her. "Maids, would it?"

"Igarashi." She could hear the soft click of a shoe as Manilla or Fumiko – she couldn't have told which – turned to face the door. "You're going to get me into – oofff –" He had snatched the sundae out of her hand and -

Manilla stepped into the dressing room.

"Oh look, a sundae~" She sang. Then she pouted. "What's it doing on the table, though?"

"One of the other girls must have brought it in for a quick bite and forgotten it." Fumiko smiled. She bent down and removed her damaged shoe. "I wonder who it was."

-;-

"I. Hate. You." Saraksh hissed, through gritted teeth.

He removed his hand from her mouth. "You were being too loud." His voice was dispassionate. "While I understand that you are a frustrated individual, Ishin, that was not the best time to shout and make our presence be known."

Sarakshi glared daggers at him. "How dare you," she hissed. How dare he grab her and drag her into one of the dressing rooms?

"Quiet, Ishin." He placed a finger on her lips, his grin devilish. She couldn't possibly have thought he would find a place to hide _alone._ "You do realize what a disaster it would be for Crème Maid if one of their maids is discovered in a situation such as this, don't you?"

Her eyes widened. He was right. If she caused a ruckus... "I'd tell that you grabbed me, Igarashi." Her voice was cool. "From where I stand, you're the one who should be worried."

"Aren't you just the naïvest little thing." He lifted a lock of her hair and let it go. It fell to her shoulder, like a piece of red silk. "Who do you think Hoseki's representatives would believe, Ishin? One of the maids from a café that has done a grand event for the first time or –" He leaned in, his voice just a breath – "The well-mannered and chivalrous Igarashi heir?"

"Well-mannered. Chivalrous." Sarakshi repeated, just the right amount of incredulity in her voice. "Excuse me while I gag, Igarashi."

"I'm sure something as unattractive as that would be right up your street."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm leaving." Her voice was a hiss. "Feel free to leave when Manilla and Fumiko have. I hope," she added with an oh-so-nice smile. "They take _hours_." She turned on her heel, swept past him, and would have left if his voice – silken and wicked – had not stopped her.

"Do you intend to drive in that dress?"

She stilled. Looked down at her dress. The realization that he had planned this – that this was the reason her dress was shorter than the others' dresses – washed over her in furious waves. He knew she wasn't the kind of person who would drive a bike in a dress this short: it would be too revealing. Heart hammering in a furious manner, she whirled around to face him.

"You manipulative jer –"

She broke off at the sound of footsteps. Light and growing heavier, Manilla or Fumiko – whichever of the two it was – passed right past the locked dressing room. The footsteps faded after a moment and Sarakshi realized she had been holding her breath. She let it go and turned around to look at Igarashi.

"You seemed panic-stricken for a moment there, Ishin." There was a very, very satisfied smile playing around his mouth. "Were you... scared?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You." She hissed. She'd had enough of him and his manipulation, a long time ago. "Get out. This instant."

"I don't think I will. In fact. " He strode towards her. Instinctively, she took a step back and then another… and realized there was no more room to back up. He loomed over her and leaned down. "I believe I'm _quite_ fine where I am," he said, his voice a breath against her skin.

"You're lecherous."

"Perhaps." He had known she would look delicious in that dress. Perhaps more so because he had never seen her in a dress before. She was fair and looked fairer against the scarlet of the outfit. His hand cupped the smooth curve of her shoulder and then ran down the length of it: she stilled. "But I am… skilled at it."

She raised her hands to shove him back; he caught them with a swiftness she could not have thought possible. "Don't cause a ruckus, Ishin," he whispered. "Not unless you want to get into much greater trouble than you are now."

The phrase 'Between a devil and the deep, blue sea' must, Sarakshi thought with a leaden feeling in the pit of her stomach, have been invented for situations such as this. (No prizes for guessing who the devil was, in this case, she thought with a grimace.) If she shoved him back, it _would_ cause a noise. Could she deal with him without resorting to that? He could deal with her without resorting to physical restraint if it came right down to it, so there was no reason she should not be able to do the same, she dediced with a stubborn face.

"You do realize that that expression is beyond unattractive?" Tora drawled.

The voice jerked her back to earth. "Do tell me." She looked up at him, her voice sarcastic. "Is going after unattractive women another of your fetishes?"

"Another?" He said the word with the kind of laziness that made her realize, at once, that she had made a mistake when she had uttered the word 'fetish.' "I had no idea you knew I had other fetishes, Ishin. Have you been keeping…" His fingers traced a line from her jawbone – down her neck – past the curve of her shoulder – at first with softness - then with a tinge of pressure. Until she shivered and not, he knew, with fear or distaste. And shivered again. "Tabs on me?" He breathed.

"I –" There was a burning, scorching, sizzling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to clutch at his shirt. Sarakshi collected her scattered wits. "Cut that out." She hissed. "I said –"

"Do you know why your dress has straps, Ishin?" He breathed in her ear.

Her eyes widened and he resisted the urge to smirk. That had been… simple. He had known the question would distract her. It seemed curiosity would kill his little wild cat, after all. Or to be more precise... subdue her.

"Do I look like I care?" She hissed.

He could have replied to that with a yes and it would not have been a lie: there was a cautious sort of curiousness in her eyes. Cautious sort of yes, but curiousness nevertheless. He did not, however. "It has straps." His hand dipped down her upper back to trace a circle there. He felt her freeze. "So that I can push them down."

Her breath was stuck in her throat. His hand had dipped a little lower, and her back seemed to have decided it wanted the sensation, and she wanted to _kick_ it for the betrayal. "What the hell are you –"

"If you can't keep quiet." His voice was a rough murmur against her ear. "I'll have to make you."

"What –" Her eyes had grown as round as saucers and, with nimble fingers, he pushed the right strap of her dress down. It could have been a simple action: Tora made sure it was not so. He let her skin come in contact with his fingers for the most fleeting of moments before he removed them. His touch was slow and soft and scorching and feather-light; the strap fell down to her upper arm to reveal an expanse of soft white skin and the thin strip of the slip she wore underneath. He had not expected her to have worn that beneath the dress: it obscured his view and he wanted it gone. Now. He pushed it down –

She threw a punch at him.

It took him by surprise, that punch. He caught the wayward fist in the nick of time. Then he caught both her hands (knowing her, she would just switch to the other if he caught one), raised them above her head, held them there with both hands and bending down, gripped the thin strap of her slip between his teeth. He felt her breath catch at the sensation of his lips on her exposed shoulder; he grazed his teeth against it and -

She kicked him, and hard.

He had to cease his activities, at that. "You never give up, do you, Ishin?" His voice and grin were both amused.

"If you think I'm going to let you take advantage of the fact that we're alone in this… dressing room. Thing. Dressing room thing." Her words were breathless and mixed up and almost not there: she looked as if she had already been ravished – Rumpled hair. Frenzied breathing. Heaving chest. Voice full of gravel – and that made him want to ravish her, more than ever. Her gaze, though, was fierce. Too fierce for words."Then you are. One. Mistaken. _Idiot_."

"Mani-chan, I think I heard a raised voice, just now." Fumiko's voice sounded outside the dressing room. There was a frown in it. "Did you?"

There was a pause in which, Sarakshi presumed, Manilla listened. "No. I can't hear anything, Fumi-chan."

"I see." It was not hard to tell that a bright Fumiko was smiling her usual sweet smile. "It must have been something else, then."

He looked down at her. "We could have gotten into trouble just now, Ishin." He transferred both of her hands to his left one, so that now one of his hands held her arms above her head. Then he pinned her against the wall. Hard. "I'm being lenient with you so unless you want me to stop being so –" He tipped up her chin with his free hand, the action not gentle. His gaze made it clear he was serious. Beyond serious. "You will listen to me and _obey_."

"Do you honestly think." Her voice was fierce but not loud. Low enough so that just the two of them would hear. "That you can pull that dominant crap on me? If you don't back off this instant, Igarashi, so help me I will kick you where it's going to hurt like hell, and kick you hard enough _to bring the whole hall into this room_."

His lips curved up. What had he been thinking? That she would listen to him? That she might even consider listening to him? He should have known better. Had he thought he could have this girl and be satisfied? He did not want her just once: he wanted her again, and again, and again. And again, after that. He let go of her hands; her eyes widened as if she had not expected him to. Then he leaned down and swept her hair off her neck, his fingers brushing against her heated neck in a manner that was as soft as it was tantalizing.

"What are you –" She breathed.

He placed a finger on her lips. His hand slipped into his pocket and then, with a touch so light it almost wasn't, he clasped the necklace he had drawn out from it, around her neck. It clicked into a place with a soft sound.

Her hand rose to touch it. She was aware that Manilla and Fumiko had just left the dressing room. She was aware that she could shove him back now and leave. She was aware... and she could not have cared less because she felt panicked and new and right and wrong.

"Igarashi –" She sounded half-confused, half-fierce; as if she could not decide which reaction was appropriate.

He secured her chin between the index finger and thumb of his left hand and tipped it up so that her eyes met his. "I am." His voice was husky; it left her breathless. "Addicted to you."

"You –"

He let go of her chin, stepped back, turned around and left.

* * *

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_The chapter title comes from the lines '_Before I loved you_... I knew rooms full of ashes' in one of Pablo Neruda's love sonnets. And yes. It does have to do with what's written on the necklace. ;)  
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_Thank you once again to everyone who reviewed or subscribed or favourite'd. You guys inspired me to write moar and this chapter became one of those raaaaare chapters (for me) that just write themselves from start to finish without my even having to pause to think. Thank youu to gamma-rae-star, choco-chan143, HMOrange216, Wildfly, echizenochi, Trickster707, michibun, an chan ran, Farynx99, DyOon-MEi, _ChuGaEun_, _magicme_, _Aishwarya_, _sweetykitty, __ultimate end Xx._, MARSBARYUM and every other person who took out the time to read._

_ChuGaEun. Thank you. I think you'll like this chapter. :)_

_magicme. I'll check it out right after my exams. If it's a good Kahoko/ Yunoki fic, I'll probably fall in love with it and obsess about it all the time, soo I think I should wait a bit or I won't concentrate on studying. XD_

_Aishwarya. Haha. Tamaki. XD I wiiiilll make sure the ending isn't out-of-character for any of the characters, and I hope you'll continue to enjoy the FF. =)_

_sweetykitty. Thank you. and noo. I would never rush this story. =)_

_ultimate end Xx. Hehe. There seems to be an increase in people who want Sarakshi and Marjani together, after the last chapter. Me likes them together, too. -.- *_*  
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_ALSO. I'd love to know who made the Seduction page on TVTropes. :3_

_(Reviews = happy me = cookies and moar FF for youus.) *_*  
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	19. takes just a Breeze to cause a storm

**c h a p t e r n i n e t e e n**

**takes just a BREEZE to cause a storm.**

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_**A/N:** Most of this chapter is set in a ryokan. Which is a type of Japanese inn which usually features spots to dine, communal baths/ hot spring bathing facilities, and areas for visitors to flaunt traditional Japanese clothes._

-;-

"I don't suppose things are going as smoothly as they were, half a minute ago," Marjani drawled.

Linda looked up at him. "Oh, I don't know." She traced the scar on his chest with the tip of a finger. "From where I stand, things look quite, quite well. Or should I say... from where I lie."

He had thought an actual reaction would take her by surprise. Catch her off guard. He couldn't have been more mistaken. Because when she looked up at him, her eyes were large and alight and quite curious.

His narrowed.

"You do realize." His voice was cold. "That I'm not going to fall for you, don't you?"

She ran a hand up his chest. "Ya think too much."

"You don't know a thing about me."

"And y'think that's important in the current situation because?"

She was beautiful and determined and _foolish_. His hand clenched around the bedsheets before he straightened up. She could see him in side-profile as he sat up: the fine hair, the muscular chest, the the hard jaw. Trace them in her mind.

"This." She paused. "Is frustrating."

"What were you expecting, dinner and champagne?"

She sat up in a tangle of sheets. "Your aren't doing me a favour by being Mr. Honourable. I know what I want."

"Has it occurred to you that that might not be what _I_ want?"

"Believe me, Soldier Boy, you look like you could do with a refresher course in kissing."

"And you, of course, would know all about that."

There was enough sarcasm in his tone to drown several acres of land; something like a grin flitted across her face. "I kiss good. You kiss good. The way I see it." She rose to her feet and stepped in front of him. The sheets around her sank to the floor. "We shouldn't have to think about what we're supposed to be doing here."

"You don't." His hand closed around her wrist; the raw strength of the grip, made her eyes widen. "Want to mess with me."

"Not if your definition of 'mess with' isn't the same as mine. You're hurting me, by the way."

His grip loosened, at once. "My apologies."

She smiled, an ironic sort of smile. "See? Mr. Honourable. You _weren't_ hurting me."

He caught her wrist again. Her eyes widened but she had no time to react: he had pulled her to him in a whirl of blonde hair before she could so much as think of speaking. Her hands met his chest as she attempted to regain her balance. "Don't." He looked down into her face, his gaze cold; and she knew at once, in a moment that was half-breathlessness, half-panic, that he had known all along that he _wasn't_ hurting her. "Think I can't be the bad guy."

Was she afraid? His voice was dark and his grip was like steel and Linda had to admit that she might, just might, be. He let go of her; she turned around with a frown.

"If I thought that, I wouldn't be here," she said softly.

"You have too much passion to waste on someone who doesn't care."

She turned around to face him. Her eyes were narrowed. "If I'd wanted a lecture, I could have gone to my parents, thank you very much."

He arched an eyebrow. "If it bothers you so much, you shouldn't be here."

"If it bothers you so much, you should ask me to leave."

"I would, if I thought you'd comply," he said drily.

She grinned. "I suppose it isn't too late for the dinner and champagne."

-;-

She had spent half an hour outside the auditorium, and if she continued to dawdle outside in the hope that this might all turn out to be a horrible nightmare, the rehearsal would be over. _You wanted this role_, Sarakshi reminded herself, as if repeating the lie would make her believe it.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the doors.

"Daiki-san, I'm sorry I'm late –" she began.

Daiki Hiroshi turned to her and raised a finger to his lips.

It was unlike Daiki to be this quiet. In nine cases out of ten, he would have jumped up and down and announced that she was 'ruining his play!' at the top of his lungs. Sarakshi raised an eyebrow but, the moment she looked up at the stage, the reason for the little man's vow of silence became clear.

Tora and Linda were rehearsing.

It was like someone had reached into her stomach and twisted it into knots. She was aware that his arm was around Linda's waist. That Linda's hand was resting on his shoulder. That neither of them looked the least bit concerned that half a dozen people were watching. She took a step towards the nearest chair. She hadn't been looking where she had been going though, and she tripped. There was a _clang_ as the chair her foot had caught in twisted, collided with another chair, and both chairs thudded to the floor.

The lights came on.

Daiki turned on her. "You've ruined it!" He yelled. "Ruined it! You –"

"Hiroshi."

It was Tora's voice, and it was cold. Daiki stopped mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open.

"I apologize –" He began.

"There's no need." Sarakshi was aware of Igarashi's eyes on her; she forced her voice to sound calm. "It was my fault." Her eyes met Igarashi's. Images tumbled into her mind - images of the last time she had been alone with him - and a knot seemed to form in her stomach. "I'm fine. Do resume your act."

She had never felt calmer or less calm in her entire life.

-;-

"Sarakshi."

Sarakshi, who had just emerged from the showers of the auditorium's changing room, looked up to see Linda. She was standing against a locker, her top tied into a front knot that showed off her stomach; and Sarakshi had a feeling the blonde had been standing there for a while.

"Linda," she returned with a grin, as she pulled up the collar of her shirt.

"Is something wrong between you and President Igarashi?" Linda's voice was blunt.

_Was_ something wrong between her and President Igarashi? Sarakshi thought of the necklace around her neck, and she wasn't quite sure if something was. "I don't like him, he doesn't like me." She gave a shrug. "Come on, let's get something to eat. I'm starving." She hitched her jacket over her shoulder and, pushing open the door of the changing room with her free hand, stepped outside.

Linda's frown followed her.

-;-

"With me?" Sarakshi set down a cup on the counter and looked up at Manilla. It wasn't rare for one of the customers to request a card game with a certain maid but when she had stepped into the dining area less than five minutes ago, none of the regulars had been there. None of the regulars who would be interested in a card with her, at any rate.

"Yes~" Manilla sang. "I think he knows you, Sarakshi-chan~ He sat down, placed his order, and said he would like a card game with you."

That was... suspicious. "What does he look like?" Sarakshi asked, eyeing the door of the staff area.

"Well." Manilla hesitated.

Sarakshi's eyes narrowed. "What's wrong, Manilla-san?" Then her eyes widened. "He doesn't look suspicious, does he?"

"He looks…" Manilla's eyes were round. "He looks like he could rip something into two, if he wanted to. He was polite, though. Nice, too." She giggled. "He's handso – Sarakshi-chan?"

But Sarakshi had already crossed the distance between herself and the door, pushed it open, and burst into the café.

"Marjani?" She asked, incredulous.

-;-

"What the heck." Sarakshi's teeth were gritted, as she sat down opposite Marjani. It had been a moment before she had realized that she had, as usual, leaped before looking. The moment she had burst into the café and announced his name, the entire population of customers had turned to look at her. It was a good thing Manilla, who seemed to have sensed what was about to happen, had diverted everyone's attention with some announcement or the other. "Do you think you're doing here?"

"Who are you dressed as?" He leaned forward, the action nonchalant, as if she had never spoken.

Sarakshi gave him a look. "Kim Possible," she muttered. The café had decided to dedicate an evening to foreign animation. Which was the reason she was wearing the crop top and cargo pants she was wearing.

He took her in. She'd donned green contacts, and her hair ran down her back in a scarlet cascade. She was, he thought, beautiful. "Never heard of her," he said, with a grin.

Her lips tugged up into a smile. "I know. Have I asked you why you're here, yet?"

"No. I'm sure I would answer if you did, though."

She had to grin. "Smart aleck.

"You'd know, I'm sure." His voice was dry.

She arched an eyebrow. Had he just, indirectly, called her a smart aleck? "You sure are in a good mood, today," she said drily.

"I have a feeling that wasn't a compliment."

There was a grin in his voice and it made her lips curve up. If she hadn't been inside the café, she would have reached forward and intertwined her hand with his. "Oh, cut the crap, Suoh." She was grinning, though. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Yuki Shinomori would like to an extend an invitation to you."

Yuki Shinomori? It was a moment before Sarakshi remembered the black-haired girl who had been Igarashi's date to the UxMishi concert. Her face donned a small frown.

"Remind me when she and I became best friends."

"The same time you decided to wear respectable clothing outside of Miyabigaoka."

Sarakshi punched him in the arm; the touch was as light as the smile curving her lips. His arm was anything but, however. The raw strength of it surprised her. Could something that strong, be real? She prodded it with a finger. "Weren't you supposed to be the nice guy?" She asked, the half-smile still there.

"Do I." His gaze locked with hers. "Look like the nice guy?"

Her eyes widened. He was not supposed to do this to her - look at her with the kind of intensity that would leave someone far more indifferent than she was, breathless. "Don't," she whispered. "I don't need any more of this, Marjani." She could do without the wild onslaught of emotions; without the awkwardness, the drama, the all-over-the-place feelings. She wanted him for who he was - a friend; a rock; the one person who would always understand - and not for who he could be.

His eyes flickered. There was no emotion whatsoever in them. "We were talking about Yuki, I believe."

She could have been grateful for the fact that he had chosen to return to the earlier topic. She wouldn't be, though. Because he was the one person she didn't have to be grateful to: if she couldn't depend upon him, then she couldn't depend upon anyone. "_You_ were talking about Yuki, I believe," she said.

"And you." His voice was dry. "Were refusing to talk about your fashion sense."

"Yes, Marjani. You are highly amusing." She gave him a_ look_. "I don't see what my fashion sense -"

"Or lack thereof." He interjected.

She grinned. "What my fashion sense," she repeated. "Has to do with an invitation Yuki Shinomori would like to extend to me." Hianta floated over to set down a dish on the table next to theirs. Sarakshi waited until the older girl had gone before she spoke again. "She and I've never met in person. It'd be nice to know what made her invite me to whatever she's decided to invite me to. General knowledge and all, you know?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "She invited the whole group she sat with at the after-event. That includes you. Though I think it might also have to do with the fact that Kurumi told her about you. Everything," he added wryly. "Now that you've been kidnapped, you're bound to get popular."

"Oh, cut the sarcasm, Suoh." She was grinning, though. "I can't. I'd love to, but I –"

"You know." Marjani's voice was dry. "This is the part where normal people ask what they've been invited to."

Her lips curved up. "It doesn't matter when I don't want to come, does it?"

His eyebrow rose. "She'd like you to join her and Kurumi at the Shinomori Ryokan for an overnight visit. Her parents are leaving the place to her for the week, so she has a few things planned."

Sarakshi held up the cards. "Shall we start?"

"Sarakshi." His voice was dark. "Do I have to ask?"

_Did_ he have to ask for her to tell him what was wrong? No. No, he didn't. She set down the cards, the action gentle. "Do I have to tell you for you to know?" She said, voice soft.

"How much longer are you going to run away from Tora?"

"I'm not." The words were quiet. "Running away."

"What are you doing, then?" There was nothing nice whatsoever about his tone. "Running away from your own self and feelings?"

Her eyes widened. "You may." Her voice was soft. "Be crossing a line."

There was a moment of silence, of total silence. Then he said, "I see." There was a pause. "I just thought it would be good if Linda had some company."

For a moment, she didn't understand. Then she did.

"You invited Linda?"

He inclined his head.

Her eyes widened. "But why?"

"I felt like it." His voice was dry but, when she met his gaze, his eyes were dark. There was no emotion in them whatsoever and that, she knew, meant that there was a_ storm_ of emotion in them. She looked down at her hands and she knew she ought to ask and then she knew she wouldn't.

"I see," she said. She held up the cards. "Shall we?"

"No." His eyes locked with her gaze. "If you think I came here to spring that on you, you're mistaken." Perhaps he had wanted to tell her that. It had never been the sole reason he had come, however. How could it ever have been the sole reason? If the two of them hadn't been inside Créme Maid, he would have pulled her against his chest and kissed her until she was left breathless. Which, he supposed, _was_ the reason he had chosen to meet her inside the café. "I could have passed on Yuki's message over the phone. I'm here to ask you in person because I want you there."

Sarakshi crossed her arms against her chest. "We're not having this conversation," she said, tone flat. "What difference does it ma –"

"Of course it makes a difference! I love you, damn it!"

Her eyes widened. She knew, of course she knew, but to hear it put into words when she least expected it, shook her up. She was aware his eyes had lost all trace of emotion, and she didn't know how she knew that it was a sure sign he regretted his uncharacteristic lack of control. She looked down at her hands and, for what seemed like forever, there was a silence so complete, it seemed as if the rest of the world had disappeared. Then she looked up.

"I'll come," she said, tone even. "It's not like I can say no to you." She gathered the cards and rose to her feet. "Can I get you something, goshujin-sama?"

"Don't." His voice was dangerous. "Ever call me that again."

"What do you expect a maid to call you when you walk into a maid café?" She snapped. "Madame?"

Something like a shadow of a smile crossed his features. He rose to his feet. "See you."

"See you," she said softly.

-;-

The first thought that came to Sarakshi's mind, when she stepped down from the car, was that the place was ridiculously huge.

The second was that it was breathtaking.

There are some places where the grass seems greener, the skies bluer, the water clearer. The Shinomori Ryokan was one of those places. Stepping inside, Sarakshi breathed in the scent of old wood and wet grass with a sense of calmness that she hadn't felt in a while.

"Linda-san. Sarakshi-san." Yuki's voice floated out to them. "I'm so glad both of you could make it. Please. Do come in."

Hair swept off her neck and draped over one shoulder, Yuki looked even more beautiful than the last time Sarakshi had seen her. She was - and there was no other term to describe Yuki Shinomori so well, Sarakshi thought - a Yamato Nadeshiko. Her voice was sweet, and she moved in a manner that was both light and ladylike. She was dressed in a stunning white kimono this evening, and her hair and eyes - both a pure black - seemed darker than ever, in contrast to the fabric.

"Thanks for the invitation," Sarakshi said. She gave Yuki a smile and followed her into the building. The first person she saw, when she stepped inside, was Tora. He was leaning forward in his chair, blonde hair falling into his eyes, as he moved a chess piece. Marjani sat opposite him, face impassive, as he studied the board.

Yuki gave a small, delicate cough.

Both of them looked up.

"Linda." Tora's voice was warm as he rose to his feet. "Wonderful to see you again." His gaze swept on to Sarakshi. "Sara-chan." Voice silken, he gave her an oh-so-amiable smile before he turned to Yuki. "Did the order come through?"

"It'll be here as soon as possible." She swept up to him and he wrapped an arm around her waist. Resisting the urge to frown, Sarakshi looked up... and met Marjani's eyes.

"Sarakshi." His greeting was dry.

She felt a sense of relief, an almost physical sense of relief, that she never felt when he wasn't there. "Who else is coming?" She asked.

"Quite a few people." His voice was neutral. "Kurumi. Kouma. Kuuga couldn't make it but Takihara is here."

"Takihara?"

"Takihara Fenshani." Someone said, from behind. Sarakshi turned around to see Yuki walking towards them, a smile on her lips. "He's a friend of mine. I think you'll like him." She came to a stop next to Linda. "Shall I show you two your rooms?"

Sarakshi nodded.

-;-

It was the kind of room that could have been _several_ large rooms. Sarakshi had tossed her jacket on to the bed and gone up to one of the half-dozen or so windows to close it - the wind seemed cold enough to freeze one alive - when she heard a voice at the door.

"Do we know each other?"

She turned around. There was a guy standing in the door, several heads taller than her. His shirt was unbuttoned and he was, for lack of a better description, the kind of guy Linda would have wasted no time in attaching herself to.

"Of course." Her voice was quite amiable. "I'm Sarakshi Ishin, and you're the guy who's about to be kicked out of my room for stepping in without permission."

He grinned lazily. "I do love a fiery redhead."

Was he attempting to flirt with her? Sarakshi arched an eyebrow. "I do love kicking people," she said, voice dry.

His grin widened. He stepped into the room and stretched his arms. "Is it just me, or is it hotter in here?"

Riiiight, Sarakshi thought. He _was_ attempting to flirt with her. "You sure you don't want to see a doctor?" She asked drily. "Fevers can kill."

"If it's a fever that feels this good, I have a feeling I might not."

She tilted her head to look up at him. He was fair, fairer than most men she knew, and there was stubble on his chin, a light, fine sort of stubble. His eyes were large and full of life and fun and, when he tilted his head back at her in an imitation of her, she felt a grin curving up her lips despite herself.

"Get out of my room, Romeo," she grinned.

"You're not going to ask my name?" He asked, his expression one of mock disappointment. "My email address?My cellphone number?"

"You're Takihara Fenshani." Sarakshi gave him a _look_. "I can live on that, thanks."

"How do you know my name?" His voice was curious.

"Yuki." It was getting colder inside the room each minute. Sarakshi turned her back on him to pull down the closest shutter. "There was just one name on the these-people-are-here list that I didn't recognize." One of the shutters had been rolled up too high. She stood on tiptoe to pull it down; and realized she _still_ couldn't reach it. She frowned.. and a hand reached up and tugged the shutter down.

Fenshani's.

"I could have done that." There was a frown in her voice.

"You're telling me you have superpowers? The Wonderwoman Who Could Fly?"

She rolled her eyes. "I could have climbed on the sill," she pointed out, as she pulled down another shutter.

There was a pause.

She turned to him and found him looking at her. There was a mixture of surprise and amusement in his eyes. "What?" She asked.

"You would have climbed on a sill to pull down a shutter?" He asked.

She blinked. "Is that a big deal?"

He grinned. "You're something else, Ishin."

Ishin. I must have hit a place lower than rock bottom, Sarakshi thought drily, if being called by my last name reminds me of Tora Igarashi. "Don't call me that," she muttered. "My name's Sarakshi."

"Sarakshi, then." He pulled down another shutter for her. "How much longer do I have to wait for you to thank me?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Thank you for what? Gracing my room with your fantastic presence?"

The sarcasm in her voice made him grin. She was something else altogether. Five feet of attraction that moved and talked and smiled liked it gave her a pleasure to move and talk and smile. Hell, she even pulled the shutters down like it gave her pleasure to pull them down. "For pulling down a shutter you couldn't have reached, idiot."

"Didn't we just decide." She paused, mid-action, to look at him. His face was the kind that glowed with whatever he felt. It was almost a relief to meet a guy who _didn't_ hide what he felt. Or believe that masking his emotions was as normal as having eggs for breakfast. "That I could have climbed on the windowsill?"

He grinned. "I forgot."

"How convenient." She pulled down the last shutter, sat down on the edge of the bed and pointed to the door. "Out you go, Fenshani. I need to unpack."

He resisted the urge to grin. "Fine. But I _will_ see you again." He winked at her before walking up to the door. He had stepped outside and been about to close it, when she said,

"Thanks, Takihara."

His eyes widened. "You're welcome," he said, voice soft as he closed the door.

-;-

"I'm sure you'll be a good swimmer in no time." Yuki's voice was gentle.

The kid blushed as his parents ushered him out of the shop. Sarakshi watched him go with half a frown. "This is the first time I've seen a ryokan cater to children," she said.

Yuki looked up from the swim-ring she had been returning to its spot among the other merchandise. "It makes for good business." Her smile was light. "No other ryokan offers activities designed for children, so families who want to spend some time together naturally choose ours. Oh, there you are." She looked up with a smile. Sarakshi - who had been seated on a desk at the back of the shop - followed her gaze to the doorway. Which was now filled up with Igarashi's form. "I'm going to see if the food's been delivered yet. You'll have to close the place in half an hour."

"Of course." He leaned down to brush his lips against Yuki's cheek before she left. The moment she had, he turned to Sarakshi. "You look you were forced to swallow something inedible, Ishin." His voice was lazy. "Did our show of affection.." He straightened. ".. disturb you?"

"Yes, Igarashi." She gave him an oh-so-sweet smile. "There's this thing where everything that has to do with you, leaves sane people _disturbed_."

He strode over to her. Sarakshi realized how disadvantageous the position she was in happened to be, a moment too late: he had placed his hands on either side of her before she could even think of jumping down from the desk. Leaning down, he brushed a thumb over her lower lip. "Spitfire," he breathed.

She could feel the hard muscles of his leg; the sensation left her panicked. "Pervert -"

He pressed his leg against hers.

Her eyes widened. _How stupid could you have been, Sarakshi Ishin,_ she thought. If she had just kept still instead of having fidgeted, he'd never have realized he was making her uncomfortable. She raised her face to glare up at him. "What the -" He removed his leg from hers and the sudden loss of contact caused a shiver to run up her spine. She didn't want it, she realized, the loss of contact, and the realization left her stunned.

"You didn't take it off, did you?" He murmured in her ear.

Her eyes widened. His fingers brushed the necklace that came around her neck and cascaded into her shirt, so that nothing but a sliver of its chain could be seen. He traced it with a thumb, down and then further down, until his thumb was intercepted by the neckline of her t-shirt. "Now that is a bit of a bother, isn't it?" He breathed, slipping his thumb underneath -

She shoved him back so hard he almost lost his balance.

"Don't." She sounded beyond breathless. "Don't come near me again."

"Why?" He angled her chin up; his fingers grazed the curve of her neck, softly, almost unconsciously. "Because you can't handle it? Because you.." He leaned in so that there lips were inches apart. So that she could smell his cologne and feel his heat. "... like it?"

"I don't like -" He was too close and she was too swept up in the scorching heat of it all. She pushed him back. "How deluded you are, amazes me. Does it never alarm you that you'll never be anything but a cold -"

"Yes. I _am_ inherently cold." He pulled her against him. His lips came to a rest on her neck: the feather-light contact left goosebumps along the curve of her neck and down her shoulder. "Perhaps you would like to rectify that?" He breathed.

Eyes as round as saucers, she positioned her leg to kick him -

The doorknob turned.

He stepped back before the door could swing open. His eyes were devoid of emotion again in less than a moment: calm and unruffled and composed. She might as well have kicked the wall, for all the effect her action seemed to have had on him. Sarakshi jumped off the desk, a lump in her throat, and met the gaze of a little girl standing in the door.

"Hello." She was dressed in a multi-coloured school swimsuit and her smile was bright. "Is this where you gets the swimmings? My mam sent me."

Swimmings? _She must mean swim-rings._

"Yes, it is." Tora switched on another light so that the shop was flooded in illumination. The little girl 'aah'ed' in a mixture of surprise and delight. "Which one would you like?"

Heart still hammering like she had run a marathon, Sarakshi swept past him and the girl. The door was open and she could see the gigantic swimming pool in the near distance, clear and tranquil. The sight calmed her. She took a deep breath - reached the door - stepped through it - and paused. She couldn't have said what made her turn - the gentleness in his voice or the brightness in the girl's or both - but something (and she didn't care what it was, though she would never have admitted it) did. Made her turn.

"Can I haz it?" The little girl was pouting as she inspected a pink swim-ring. "This be all mam gave me." She held out her hands to show him the money she had on her. "I'm not supposed to get something more costlier-er."

"How about this one?" He fitted a different ring around her; Sarakshi could tell the one she wanted _was_ costlier. "It's the same colour."

"Yees." The girl eyed it. Then she looked at the ring she had just put down and the longing in her eyes was so sudden and so sharp, even Sarakshi felt it. "I.. I guesses I can take this one."

There was a pause. Then Tora said, "How about I offer you a discount on that one?" He picked up the one the girl had wanted. "How does that sound?"

"Ooh." The little girl jumped up and down. "That's be nice. Thank you!"

"You're welcome." He gave her a lazy grin that made her go saucer-eyed. "Here you are, then. Have fun and be safe."

"Byeee!" Cheeks flushed with colour, the little girl waved to him as she ran out of the shop, streaked past Sarakshi, and headed for the pool. He replaced the swim-rings, dropped the money she had handed him into the cash drawer, reached into his pocket for his wallet, and dropped in another note. He was filling in the amount the girl hadn't paid, Sarakshi realized. He closed his wallet, looked up... and met Sarakshi's gaze.

"Still here, I see." His voice was cold; she knew at once, that he hadn't known she had still been around. "What is it, Ishin? Do you want -" He took a step towards her. "- another round?"

She didn't respond. Just left.

-;-

_You didn't take it off, did you?_

"It smells delicious, doesn't it?" Yuki asked as she set down a dish on the table that had been transported outside of the ryokan's main building and into the vast lawn.

The voice brought Sarakshi back to earth. She wasn't sure what Yuki was talking about - the aroma that was wafting from the barbeque grill or the aroma that was wafting from the dish Yuki had just placed on the table - but she had to nod in agreement: both items smelled delicious.

"Did you make this yourself?" She asked as Yuki set down another dish.

"Indeed." Yuki straightened up. "Manilla-san told me you're a good chef. Perhaps you'd like to try it in advance?"

"I'm sure it's fine -" Sarakshi began.

"I'd like an opinion." Yuki scooped out a small portion and held it up. "Go ahead."

"Well, if you insist..."

Yuki smiled. "I do."

Sarakshi blinked. "Right," she said. She lifted a spoon and took a bite to test the dish. Then she took several more.

"Well?" Yuki asked.

"It's nice," Sarakshi said. "You can roast the bell-peppers instead of chopping them for a stronger taste, though. Mushrooms would be a nice addition. And if you sear-grill the meat next time, you'll have a richer flav -" She looked up and realized everyone was looking at her. Her cheeks flamed. "I - err -"

"I had no idea you were that good a cook." There was a grin on Yuki's face.

"She's excellent at switching planned ingredients with new ones, too." Tora drawled. Her cheeks flushed: trust him not to have forgotten that one time when she had replaced an ingredient because he had said he didn't eat it. "Isn't that so, _Sara-chan_?"

She picked up her jacket. "I forgot my cellphone inside." Her voice was cold. "I should get it back." Steps fierce, she stalked past him. Once inside the building and her room, she tossed her jacket on the bed and crossed her arms against her chest.

_You didn't take it off, did you?_

Her hand went to the necklace. He was right. She hadn't taken it off. She had been too tired last night and too.. too what, this morning? She had no excuse. She couldn't allow herself to think there was something, anything, real in his act. She reached up to yank the chain off her neck and a voice said,

"My, my, Ishin. I had no idea my words would affect you that much."

She rose to her feet and walked up to him. That did not seem to affect Igarashi: he continued to lean against the door with a wicked sort of amusement in his eyes. "What does it mean?" She asked, voice calm. She reached inside her shirt to pluck out the necklace; in the light, the phrase woven into it glinted against the front of her shirt.

He held up the pendant. "_Meus ignis_," he read, voice soft.

"I can read as much." Her voice was cool. "What does it mean?"

He let go of the pendant; it met her shirt with the lightest of touches. "It means.." His eyes locked with hers. ".. My favourite form of entertainment."

Her eyes widened. "You are." She yanked the necklace off her neck, stuffed it in his hand, and pushed him out of her room. "Sicker than I thought a person could be."

She slammed the door shut in his face.

Then she switched on the computer in her room.

_-;-_

"Where did you disappear to?"

The voice caused Sarakshi to pause at the top of the wooden staircase. She had been about to go outside. It seemed, however, that the fun and games had been moved inside: the hall was full of people. She switched her gaze from them to Fenshani, who had been the one to address her.

"You haven't been trying to keep tabs on me, have you?" She asked with a bit of a grin, as she descended the staircase.

"I wouldn't dare, madam." He dropped into a mock bow.

Her grin widened. "I'm not sure I believe you," she said.

"I'm sure a healthy amount of cynicism is always good."

His grin was all white teeth and she had to laugh. "What is everyone else up to?" She asked. There seemed to be some sort of heated debate going on.

"Discussing some movie or the other." He gave a shrug of sorts. "You want to walk out to the garden? The weather's beautiful."

The sudden question caught her off guard. Sarakshi blinked. "Sure." Her eyes flicked towards the hall, the occupants of which were still engrossed in their conversation. "I doubt they're going to miss us."

Fenshani smiled. She fell in step beside him and a minute or so later, the two of them were walking past a tall wall of well-cut hedges. The insides of the ryokan were heated and the sudden change in temperature made the cold weather seem all the colder. Sarakshi wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, as glanced upwards at the half dozen or so stars that were sprinkled across the night-sky like particles of silver dust.

"The weather _is_ beautiful," she said softly.

He followed her gaze. "You like stars?"

"Mmm." Sarakshi nodded. "Do you?"

"Stars, cakes, fiery redheads." He grinned. "The usual."

She arched an eyebrow. "I don't suppose the redhead bit was thrown in for my convenience."

"Hey, a guy should know how to sweet-talk a beautiful girl," he grinned.

"Aren't you Mr. Smooth," Sarakshi said drily.

Fenshina leaned down and, to her surprise, tucked a lock of her hair behind an ear. "Maybe I am," he said, voice soft.

"The ever-enigmatic maybe," she grinned. "If a conversation is more than ten words long, it's bound to show u -" She broke off. The two of them had walked into the garden. In the middle of which, were Tora and Yuki. Both shouldered tennis racquets. Sarakshi heard him speak and heard Yuki laugh and then his arm was around her waist...

She glanced up at Fenshani. "We should go."

There was a bit of a grin playing around Fenshani's mouth. "Bad timing, eh?"

She half-smiled, as the two of them turned around. The walk back was slow and quieter than the walk to the garden had been. Sarakshi felt a quiet sense of relief as the main building loomed into view. Light filtered out of the rows of windows that went around it: it showered them in a breathless sort of golden illumination.

"You like it, don't you?" His voice broke through her thoughts.

He was referring to the scene, Sarakshi realized. She hadn't thought he would notice it. "That goes without saying." Her grin was real.

He leaned in and then, his touch soft, cupped her cheek. "Can I?" He asked.

Wasn't that just, Sarakshi thought, the question of the decade. How had she ended up underneath a window, with Takihara Fenshani asking her if he could kiss her? He leaned in - she tilted her face up to tell him he couldn't - and a bright yellow ball whizzed past them, meeting the wall behind with a _thwack._

Sarakshi took an impulsive step back at the same time as Fenshani jumped back in surprise. The two of them turned around to look behind them.

To see Tora striding towards them with a racquet over one shoulder.

"My apologies." His voice was silken. "Yuki and I didn't mean to... disturb the two of you."

Sarakshi's eyes narrowed. She looked over his shoulder at Yuki: the black-haired girl had an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm quite sure she didn't," she said in a freezing voice.

The emphasis on the _she_ did not escape Tora: his smirk made as much clear. "Of course." He breezed past her and picked up the ball. "Have a good night then, Fenshani. _Sara-chan_."

Fenshani's cheeks were just a tad flushed: Tora Igarashi had ruined whatever ambiance had been created in that one moment before the ball had whizzed past their heads. "Perhaps we should go inside, Sarakshi," he said, with a bit of a frown.

"No." Her response took Fenshani by surprise. "There's something I'd like to discuss with _Tora-kun_."

Tora's eyes flickered. That was... unexpected. Then again, she had a penchant for being unpredictable. "Please." His voice could have made anyone think he was the most cultured, most civilized, most well-mannered person around. "Do go on."

"I apologize for interrupting your game, Yuki-san." Sarakshi gave Yuki a warm little smile. "This should just take a minute."

"Oh no." Yuki smiled. "If it's something important, please take your time. Tora and I were just about to leave, anyway. I have a few things to take care of, inside." She looked up at Fenshani. "Escort me inside, Takihara?"

Fenshani blinked. "Of course." He fell in step besides her. "Let's go."

Sarakshi could not get rid of the feeling that Yuki had asked Fenshani on purpose to leave her and Tora alone. She was too infuriated to give that suspicion much thought, however. The moment she was certain Yuki and Fenshani were out of both sight and earshot, she turned to Igarashi.

And slammed him into a wall.

"Don't think I don't realize you did that on purpose." Her voice was cold. "If you attempt to interfere in -"

She broke off as an arm wrapped itself around her waist. There was the clatter of racquet-meeting-ground as he let the said piece of equipment drop to the floor with total nonchalance, and then she had been pulled closer. Not close enough for their bodies to touch, but close enough for her heart to thud against her chest like a wild thing attempting to escape.

"If I see you kissing him." His hand closed around the curve of her waist in one rough movement; he met her half-breathless half-panicked gaze with chilling calm. "I will make him regret he even thought of it. Have I made myself clear?"

"Don't you dare think you can decide who I can spend time with and who no -"

"I said." He took her chin between a thumb and a forefinger and tilted it upwards. His voice was cold. Cold enough to cause her eyes to widen. "Have I made myself clear?"

She hated it. She hated the fact that she wanted to grab his shirt and pull him closer and shake him hard, all at the same time, not because she hated him, but because he pretended to care. She jerked her chin free. "I am _not_ your personal servant," she snapped.

She wasn't. She wasn't and he ought to have walked off and left her to deal with the mess. He couldn't, however. He couldn't because if Takihara ever laid a finger on her ever again, he _would_ make him regret it. How could such a simple action irk him to such an amazing extent? He straightened up; when he spoke, his voice was cold.

"I don't like other people messing with my entertainment."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're jealous, Tora Igarashi. Call me your favourite form of entertainment if you want to, but you are _so damn jealous that you can't even mask your emotions_."

"So says the girl." He jerked her chin upwards, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Who cannot stand the sight of me talking to Linda Williams."

Her eyes widened. The sudden statement was like a punch to the stomach. "I -"

He let go of her, picked up his racquet, and strode off. Some feet away, he paused. "I'm a cold-hearted manipulative bastard by nature, Ishin." He had his back to her, and his voice was cold. "I believe you are the one who should be worried about being jealous."

He wasn't jealous.

He just didn't share.

Or so at least, he told himself.

-;

"You like her."

Hand on the uncorked bottle, Tora paused. He set down the bottle with a soft _clink _on the kitchen counter, and turned around.

"There are two quite abstract terms in that sentence," he said.

Yuki raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean." His voice was cool.

"No, I don't." Her voice was soft. "Do englighten me."

He raised his half-full glass to his mouth and drank. Deeply.

"Like and her."

Her eyes flickered. "I don't see a need to explain either."

He set the glass down with an audible _chink_. "Isn't that just the problem."

She lowered his face to hers with one gentle hand. "I'm returning to London next week, you know," she said, voice soft.

His dominant arm wrapped itself around her waist. "Stay."

She looked up, into his face. "You know I can't." And then.. "You like her."

"I like beautiful women, in general."

"That won't fool me."

"She interests me." He twirled a strand of her hair around a finger. "She has passion. More so than she can handle. She isn't intimidated. She doesn't back down. She fights fire with fire."

"It isn't the thrill of the chase, Tora."

He smirked. "Entertainment."

Her eyes narrowed. "You want her."

"Yes." He pulled her close. "Yes, Yuki, I want her."

"And is that what it is?" There was a challenge in her gaze. "Lust?"

"I do believe that's what it's called."

His voice was cold. She stepped back. "She's different from me, isn't she?" She mused. "Hardworking. Selfless. Content."

"Naïve and reckless," he said drily.

She grinned. "Warm and gentle."

"You'd better not be expecting me to remind you you are that, too. Because." He met her gaze. "I don't intend to."

She gave a fair-shouldered shrug. "You don't need to. I know I am." She paused and smiled, an ironic sort of smile. "Because I'm expected to be." To be the perfect epitome of a traditional woman. Except that there was nothing real about it. She was who she was because that was who she had been raised to be; she remained so because it was important. To her parents. To their reputation. To their image. If she had her choice, she wouldn't be half of it. Or perhaps she would be. She would never be sure who the real her was: she had realized that a long time ago. She picked up a fresh glass and poured the remaining contents of the bottle he had set down less than five minutes ago, into it. "If I weren't, I have a feeling I would be doing this a lot more often."

"That doesn't change who you are." He brushed back a loose strand of her hair. "You can't fake grace or elegance."

"You're in love with her."

His left eyebrow rose a good half inch. "I had no idea you needed a break this bad."

"You're excellent at deflection, Tora. Just not around me."

He lowered the glass in his hand. "Would it please you if I denied it? Very well, then. I'm not - what was the phrase again? Ah, yes - 'in love' with her."

She raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think a denial would please me?"

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the fact that you _refuse to let the topic go__."_

"I refuse to let it go because I doubt someone else is going to discuss it with you." Voice soft, she set down the glass she had half filled. "Listen to me, Tora. What we have, we have because we understand each other's faults. Because we both know we pretend to be people we aren't. Or perhaps are. If you lost your faults, or I lost mine, we would no longer be friends."

"Makes you glad both of us have enough faults to make sure that doesn't happen, doesn't it?"

The sarcasm in his voice didn't escape her. She chose to ignore it. Not just the sarcasm, but his response altogether. "She would be, though. If you lost your faults. If you kept them. Either way, she wouldn't walk off. Because she's one of those naïve and headstrong and determined people who tend to remember the good in people."

"Cut the crap, Yuki." He set down his glass. "Get to your point."

Her hands cupped both sides of his face. Lowered it so that his eyes met hers. "You've changed. Don't give me the crap about beautiful women. Don't give me the crap about lust. If this was lust, Tora, you'd have a plan. And you might have had one in the beginning, but I sure as hell would like to know what your plan is now."

He lowered his lips to her ear. "It's called seduction."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're in love with her."

"Has it occurred to you -" His voice was sarcastic - "That I would know if I were?"

"No." She let go of him and walked to the backdoor. She paused there and when she spoke, she did not turn back to look at him. "You wouldn't, Tora. You wouldn't because you've never been in love before."

His eyes widened.

She pushed open the backdoor and walked out into the rain-sodden lawn.

-;-

It was raining, when Sarakshi woke up. It had grown chillier and she wished she had thought of getting herself a drink before she had gone to sleep. With a small shake of her head, she pulled the covers off herself, slipped her feet into the slippers at the foot of the large bed, and stepped out into the hall.

She was returning when the sound met her ears. Soft. Beautiful. Enchanting. She couldn't have resisted it if she had wanted to: it was too enthralling. Jug still in hand, she followed the music to its source. Past a row of doors and up a staircase until she found the half-open door the tune was floating out of. She hesitated and then - too drawn - she stepped up to said door.

And stilled.

He had his back to her as he played. His fingers assumed a life of their own: their tips skirted over gleaming white keys, graceful and soft and forceful. She stood there; eyes wide; jug tilted; the sound of the rain drumming in her ears; until the music of the piano took over her and everything else faded and disappeared. She was jerked back to earth when the piece ended and even then the sound seemed to remain: soft and lingering and –

"Ishin."

She jumped and her grip on the jug loosened. It toppled over; the cold water would have splashed all over her if he had not grabbed the jug before it fell, causing it to splash over the front of his shirt instead.

"I'm –" She looked at the front of Igarashi's shirt, which was now drenched to the core, aware that the weather was cold enough to freeze a hot-water bottle. Her eyes widened. "I apologize. You surprised me."

"You have nothing to apologize for. I intercepted the fall myself." His voice was cool: his shirt might as well not have been there, for all the affect the ice-cold water seemed to cause. "Though I'm sure seeing you in a soaking-wet nightgown would have been quite the sight."

"Your perverted little fancies are so creative, Igarashi –" The word 'creative' was said with enough sarcasm to have killed, could tones do so – "I'm left awed."

"Tell me." He set down the jug and half-turned to look at her. There was a smirk playing around his mouth. "Is sneaking up on unsuspecting people another of your secret part-times?"

Her eyes narrowed. "There's no need to be snarky." Then her eyes softened. "I didn't mean to listen without permission."

"Then you shouldn't have."

His tone was cool. She frowned and walked past him, to the piano. There was something enchanting about it. Or perhaps it was the music that had been enchanting. No, it _had_ been the music. "I didn't know you could play."

"Which is surprising because you obviously know everything there is to know about me," he drawled.

She looked up at him. "You seemed miffed, Igarashi," she said, in what was an obvious imitation of him. "Is something… the matter?"

Something like a grin flitted across his face. "That's the kind of question one should ask.." He walked up to her, trapped her between himself and the piano, and leaned down. "In a situation such as this," he breathed.

She stepped around him as if he hadn't spoken. The sound of the rain thudded into the room as she glanced down at the gigantic piano. "That was a beautiful piece," she said softly.

He stiffened. Then he smirked. "That goes without saying," he drawled.

She wasn't looking at him, however. She was looking down at the piano, half a frown on her face. "You play…" _Like you mean it._ "Well."

"I'm an Igarashi."

_I'm an Igarashi._ She looked up at him, and there was a small frown on her face. It occurred to her that it must be hard to never be told you were skilled at something, because that was what was expected of you. She bent down, hair falling over her face as she did so, and ran a hand over the keys. "It would be awful." Her voice was soft. "To never be told your music is beautiful, because of that."

"Did you hit your head on something on the way up here?" There was a smirk in his voice.

It was cold in the room. Colder than it had been in hers. Perhaps because the window was open. Sarakshi straightened. "I can see through you," she said, with a frown.

"I find that hard to believe," he drawled.

"You're right." She turned around and smiled at him. It surprised him how warm the smile was. "I don't see through you. I just see you. You're manipulative and lecherous and a lot of other negative adjectives, Igarashi. But I take what I said before back. You aren't -" She thought of the swim-ring he had paid for because the little girl couldn't have - "Cold."

"It amazes me how naive you are," he drawled. "Has it occurred to that I might have done what I did this evening, to get on your good side?"

"Yes." She straightened. Did he think she couldn't tell? He hadn't known she was still there. If he had, he would never have done what he had. Because he would never have allowed her to see him do something that wasn't driven by reason. "Yes, it has, Igarashi. But I doubt you, of all people, would be stupid enough to think such a tactic might actually work." She walked past him, her footsteps light. "That wasn't done to get on my good side, because getting on my good side has never actually mattered to you. Neither was –" She turned to him and motioned to his drenched shirt. "This."

"You think." His voice was a drawl. "Too much."

"No." She met his gaze. "I know you."

He smiled. It was not a nice smile. "That's unfortunate."

She arched an eyebrow. "What do you do in your spare time, think of witty comebacks?"

"No." He smiled, an oh-so-amiable smile. "I think of all the ways in which I can further my reputation as a lecherous, manipulative jerk."

"I doubt you need to think of that," she said drily. "Some things, you're just a natural at."

"What do you do in your spare time?" His voice was dry. "Think of insulting comebacks?"

"No, Igarashi." She gave him an oh-so-sweet smile. "I think of all the ways in which I can avoid people who have the reputation of being lecherous, manipulative jerks."

He grinned. "Spitfire."

"Jerk."

"Witch."

"Pervert."

"Wisemouth."

"That's rich, coming from someone who has a comeback for every second letter of the alphabet."

"You ruined the flow of our exchange, Ishin." There was a smirk playing around his mouth. "Such an intelligent exchange, too."

Her lips tugged up into a smile. She swept past him, up to the open window. The wind came through it in torrents, blowing the curtains until both of them were a streak of cream in the dim light. It was a beautiful sight. She stood there, looking outside, at the land and water that stretched out from the window into what seemed like the far, far distance. The wind blew about her clothes and hair and chilled her to the bone. She shivered.

His hands came to a rest on her shoulders.

Or that was what she thought, for a single caught-off-guard moment, before she realized it was not just his hands: it was his coat, too. He had slipped it around her.

"You'll catch a cold." His voice was cool.

It came down to her knees and it smelled of him. That expensive-smelling mixture of heat and cologne and seduction. She couldn't see him but she didn't turn around to do so; just gazed ahead, aware of his form behind her, a warm sort of form. "I could say the same to you." Her voice was soft.

"Is this the part where I remind you." His voice was a breath. "That I already _am_ cold?"

She looked out of the window. Down below at the expanse of tall grass and dark trees and clear water. "I looked it up, you know." She wasn't quite sure what the reason behind her decision to tell him was. Perhaps she never would be sure of anything – what was real and what not – around him. She was aware of the weight of his hands on her shoulders and aware that she didn't dislike it. "The phrase on the necklace."

"You're a little too intelligent for your own good, aren't you?"

Her hand went up to her neck. To the place where the chain had been before she had returned it._ Is this the part where I remind you that I already _am_ cold?_ Meus ignis. My fire. She lowered her hand and her gaze fixed itself on a tree in the distance again. "I think it would be awful." Her voice was soft. "Not to be told you're good at something beautiful, because that was what's expected of you." To be good at everything you attempt. So much that being excellent was no longer considered an achievement.

"I'm manipulative, not stupid, Ishin." His voice was cold; and she knew he would never acknowledge that the praise mattered. Mattered because it was genuine and given without expecting something in return. "You've said that once before. The point has been made."

She frowned. _I doubt it has, Igarashi._ Did he know that when he played, there were no masks and no façade, just who he was? The raw emotion that went into his music, left her stunned and swept off and breathless. When he played, he was open and himself and almost _vulnerable_. "How long have you been playing?"

"With you?" His voice was a caress. "A while."

"The piano, Igarashi." Even though she was not facing him, the fact that she was glaring was made apparent in the tone of her voice.

She was quite, quite sure he was contemplating whether to give a serious response or not. "Ever since I was a kid," he said, at last.

The fact that he had given an actual response, surprised her. "You know…"

There was a grin in her voice. A mischievous kind of grin. His eyes narrowed. "Enlighten me," he drawled.

She turned around. Her hair streaked in the wind, a whirl of scarlet, and her eyes were alight and large and mischievous. "I can imagine a miniature version of you, Igarashi. Little blonde kid attempting to seduce his piano teacher with puppy dog eyes."

The mischief in her eyes was as clear as glass: the realization that she had never attempted and would never attempt to mask what she felt, even in front of him, left him surprised. Undone. _You're in love with her._ Damn it, he wasn't. He wanted to push her into a wall and kiss her until she kissed him back. It wasn't as if that had never happened before. Yuki needed a breather. "You have an overactive imagination," he drawled.

"It's true, isn't it?" There was a grin in her voice. "Kid with the fluffed-up hair, attempting to slip his piano teacher notes –"

"Ishin."

"– full of little compliments –"

"_Ishin_."

She broke off. "What?" She asked, voice cross.

"My piano teacher was a sixty year old man with a dyed beard," he said drily.

Her eyes widened. Then she laughed. Laughed with the kind of complete freedom that stunned him. The kind of emotional freedom he had never had. The sound mixed with the sound of the rain, warm and sudden and full of music. "Fine, fine," She said, her lips still twitching, her eyes still full of mirth. "Maybe he was. But I can still imagine you as a kid. You must have been the composed little ruffian who was solving sums and chasing girls when his classmates were learning to count and playing with Lego blocks."

"And I can imagine you," he said drily. "The fierce little redhead who was throwing punches and threatening people she considered ruffians, while all sane people backed off and ran for their lives. From her, that is."

Her eyes widened in part-surprise, part-laughter. "I am not an angry person!" She insisted.

"Oh yes, you are, Ishin." He could feel the grin on his lips. "You are –"

"I am so not!"

She wasn't quite sure how it happened. There was a grin in her voice and a grin in his and between them, a cloud of laughter. Grinning, she attempted to shove him back and he caught both her hands in one reflexive action and then she had fallen towards him and come against his chest –

The two of them seemed to realize it at the same instant.

"I –" It was gone. The lightness, the mischief, the laughter. It was gone and in its place, was vacuum. Sarakshi stepped back, her eyes wide. "I didn't mean to –"

"It's cold here." He stepped back; his voice was like ice. "You should return to your room."

"I –" Sarakshi began, unsure. But he had turned around before she could speak. He walked up to the piano, gathered the sheet music, and lowered the piano cover with a harsh _thud_. She collected herself, picked up the jug, walked to the door. Paused.

"Igarashi." Her voice was soft.

He looked up. His lack of control angered him. How could he have let himself be as transparent as her? It was like he forgot the basics of all he had taught himself - not to wear his emotions on his sleeves - around her. She ruined his rhythm. Left him undone. "What do you want?" He asked, voice cold.

The rain drummed against the roof and windowpanes and shook up nooks and crannies and distant objects she could not have known existed.

"Your coat."

His eyes flickered. Then he turned back to the sheet music. For a moment, she thought he wouldn't respond. Then, as she turned around to leave, he did.

"Keep it," he said.

* * *

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_This chapter could... so easily have been two. It isn't, though, because I didn't know how to break it. I couldn't find a moment where a break felt right. Apologies for how loong it is._

_This was (for me) a risky sort of chapter. I'm not sure I like how it came out and after several days of having re-written _all_ of it over five times, I've realized it's not going to go where I want it to go. That said, I hope you enjoy it. Someone who read one of the drafts asked if Yuki_ _was or wasn't a Yamato Nadeshiko (ideal traditional Japanese woman, for those of you who don't know.) In my mind, she is. She's gentle, caring, strong and talented. It's just that she's expected to be that all of the time and she's come to believe she might be all of that because she's _expected_ to be. That is, she is who she is because she has to be it. _

_The chapter title is from the lyrics of Broken Iris's song, Broken Inside. Bonus points to whoever spotted the _Vampire Diaries_ quote in this chapter. -shifty- XD I wrote this chapter to a mixture of KAT-TUN's 'Rescue' and Miranda Wong's 'All is My Love'. The latter is a beautiful piece of piano music and what - in my headcanon - Tora was playing in the last scene. (You can find it if you google Miranda Wong - All is My Love). It sounds even more beautiful in the midst of rain. :3_

_As always, thank you for all the support and praise/ constructive criticism. What with uni and work and finals, your words have been what's been making me write, really. gamma-rae-star, ChuGaEun, TennisMaiden, yuukuzuri, Ally, Aishwarya (Aww. *hugs*), Que9, magicme, fateMoon, choco-chan143, Leon Ciasslasi, lana, ultimate end Xx, ulqui x, sweetykitty, Farynx99, an chan ran and Girlwithoutaname. Thank you for the feedback. :3_

_Much love._


	20. the thin line between you and my Sanity

**c h a p t e r t w e n t y**

**the thinning line between you and my SANITY  
><strong>

* * *

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"Whoa. It's cold."

Yuki, who had descended the staircase and stepped into the hall half a minute ago, smiled at Kurumi's comment. "Sure is." She picked up the cup of coffee that had just been set down in front of her. "Thanks for the coffee, Sara-chan. That was thoughtful of you."

Sarakshi paused in the middle of placing a cup in front of Linda. "Oh. It wasn't a problem. I make it every morning."

It was just like the redhead, Yuki supposed, to have made it for everyone clustered around the table without having to think about it. "Not for a whole group of people," she smiled.

Sarakshi blinked. "You _do_ have a point." She looked down at the untouched cups. Two of them. Who wasn't around? Fenshani and Igarashi, it seemed. "Where's everyone else?"

"Takihara headed out into the garden." Yuki lied with total ease. "Want me to take his cup out there?" Under normal circumstances, she would have just picked up the cup and taken it outside. These weren't normal circumstances, however. Which was the reason Yuki had chosen to ask. (She knew the answer would never be a yes: Sarakshi had a habit of putting others at ease.)

"It's fine. I'll take it." Sarakshi picked up the cup-and-saucer. She'd thrown a sweater over her shirt this morning but even so, her cheeks flushed pink with cold, the moment she stepped outside the building and into the gigantic garden. It was fragrant and ice-cold after all the rain. Breath misting in the chill morning air, she walked past a heap of winter roses towards the figure in the distance.

"Igarashi?"

He turned around; there was a flicker of surprise on his face. "Stalking me?" He asked lazily.

"No." She rolled her eyes. "I was expecting Takihara." Fenshani would just have to take the cup still simmering in the dining hall. "Here." She walked up to him and held out the saucer. "Your coffee."

He arched an eyebrow. "You don't have to go so far to express your inner desires, Ishin. You can just ask me, next time. I will.." He lifted the cup off the saucer, the glint in his eyes wicked. "Be more than pleased to let you be my personal maid."

"You're welcome," she said sarcastically.

He smirked over the raised coffee cup. "Gracious, aren't you?"

"Isn't that just the problem," Sarakshi muttered under her breath, as she turned around. She had taken half a step, when a hand on her shoulder made her jump an inch in the air. Not just a hand: a hand that was warm enough to make her register its warmth _through_ her sweater. "What the heck -" She turned around, eyes narrowed, and met Tora's lazy smirk.

"Warm, isn't it?" He asked, touching his hand to the coffee cup to show _how_ the hand in question had gotten so warm.

"Yes, Igarashi. Your methods of proving yourself to be a world-class jerk _are_ growing more and more creative, by the day." She crossed her arms against her chest. "What do you want?"

"For starters -" He took a lazy sip of the coffee. "You in something more revealing. How large is the sweater, anyway? You look ridiculous in it."

Sarakshi looked down at her a-size-too-large sweater. "And this." Her voice was incredulous. "Is why you stalled me?"

"No, Ishin. This -" He drank the last sip of his coffee, took a step towards her, and set the cup down on the saucer in her hands. "Is why I stalled you. You see, my maid waits for me to finish my morning coffee before she leaves. You don't expect _me_ to return the empty cup to the kitchen, do you? Perhaps I'll have to.." His eyes locked with hers, his voice smooth. "Punish you for not doing your job to my satisfaction?"

"Do you ever feel like your personality is on a dimmer switch?" Sarakshi asked drily. "Because it sure as hell seems to be." She stuffed the cup and saucer into his arms and would have turned around and stalked off, if a voice had not caused both of them to turn around.

"Sarak - oh."

It was Fenshani.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long." He sounded half-apologetic. "Didn't mean to disturb you two."

"You aren't disturbing anything. I was just telling Tora-kun -" Sarakshi glared daggers at Tora, who smirked. "The way to the kitchen." Sweeping past Tora to reach Fenshani, she smiled up at him. "It's pretty cold out here. We should head back inside."

"Err." Fenshani's eyes flickered towards Tora.

Who raised his cup in mock salute.

"Yes, Takihara," he said, his words a smooth drawl. "It _is_ you a girl wants to go inside with. I understand that must come as a surprise to you but, really, stranger things have happened."

Sarakshi grabbed Fenshani's arm and dragged him off.

-;-

"Is everything alright?" Fenshani looked back - half a minute after Sarakshi had pulled him in the direction opposite to where Tora Igarashi stood - at the vast green gardens.

She would have liked to know that herself. _Isn't that just the problem_, Sarakshi thought darkly. "Yeah." She let go of Fenshani's arm and pulled the sleeves of her sweater further down, so that they covered her hands. It was _cold_. "What are you thinking of?" She tilted her head to one side to look at him through curious blue eyes.

"I heard you were going to leave this afternoon."

"My life is kind of on standstill while I'm here." Sarakshi gave a bit of a shrug. "I have an exam tomorrow. I brought my books over, but I knew from scratch I wouldn't get to revise a single word." The disadvantages of having people like Igarashi around.

He grinned. "You don't look like a nerd, from where I stand."

Her lips curved. "So." She stuck her hands into the pockets of her coat. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Well." He paused. "I'm leaving in an hour or so. Stuff I need to take care of, at home. I.." He came to a halt and met her gaze. "You know. I thought we could talk."

Her eyes flickered. She did _not_ like where this was headed. "Takihara..."

"Sarakshi -"

"No." Sarakshi took a deep breath. "I know what you're thinking -" Because it was written all over his face and she wished it weren't - "And I'm sorry, but no, Takihara. You can't ask me out. Or kiss me. Or whatever it is that nice guys want to do." Because he _was_ a nice guy. And because she'd forgotten what nice guys wanted, thanks to a certain blond who refused to leave her alone.

Fenshani smiled, a rueful smile. "How much does this have to do with him?"

Sarakshi blinked. "Who?"

He looked back, at the spot the two of them had come from. "Tora," he said.

"Igarashi?"

How genuine the surprise in her eyes and voice was, surprised him. One of his eyebrows rose. "I'm not a fool, Sarakshi. I know that ball didn't just mysteriously materialize out of thin air at the right moment."

"No, no, no." Comprehension dawning on her face, Sarakshi gave a firm shake of her head. "You have it all wrong. He and me? We don't get along. He likes to stir things up when I'm around. Get a rise out of me." _Understatement of the year, Sarakshi Ishin._ "That's all there is to it."

"Oh." Fenshani frowned. "So it has nothing to do with what happened last night?

_If I see you kissing him, I will make him regret he even thought of it._ Sarakshi thought of Igarashi's gaze, cold enough to freeze someone to death could looks have done so, and her eyes flickered. "No." She looked up at Fenshani and smiled, a wry sort of smile. "You like me because I'm different, Takihara. I bend the rules a little and make inappropriate comments at inappropriate times and do stuff that the girls you hang out with don't. The point is, you like me. And you're intent on mistaking that for something bigger."

He half-smiled. "Maybe you're right," he admitted. He _was_ attracted to her because she was different from the kind of ladies he'd known all his life. It was the kind of attraction that has no substance and fizzles out within days. "But so what? It isn't such a bad reason to want to hang out with someone."

She frowned. "Is that what this is about? Wanting to hang out?"

She might not have added, _because I think you're mistaking 'wanting to hang out' with 'wanting to flirt with,'_ but the message was there. In her eyes. In her expression. In the words she didn't say.

"Fine," he said, with a frown. "I get your point." She excited him because she was new. The excitement would disappear, as soon as he got to know her better. It wasn't even a crush: it was the flimsiest kind of crush. In some corner of his mind, he _was_ aware of that. He just hadn't wanted to accept it because the surge of excitement was... exciting. She wouldn't have that, though. He could tell. He rubbed a spot on his forearms, his smile rueful. "Friends?"

Sarakshi smiled. "Sounds great."

_If I see you kissing him, I will make him regret he even thought of it._

And potentially life-saving, she thought drily.

-;-

"SARAKSHI ISHIN!"

Sarakshi set down her Physics textbook and glanced at the open door, through which Linda's voice had pounded up the staircase. "Coming," she called down, aware that she needed to stop attempting to squeeze out time to glance over her books. There would be time enough, once she was back home. Which she would be in an hour or so, given that Linda's car was waiting at the gate for her. She slung her handbag over a shoulder, held her books to her chest with an arm tucked around them, and grabbed the handles of her suitcases.

_Should have put those books inside the suitcase_, she realized as she stepped out of the room - she couldn't see much, what with all the luggage she was carrying.

"Sarakshi!" There was a frown in Linda's voice, now. "Do I have to come up and get you?"

"No -" She began.

Someone took the suitcases from her hand.

She blinked and looked up, to see Marjani's impassive face. "I could have -"

"No, you couldn't have." His voice was deadpan. "What were you attempting to do, cause a medical emergency by tripping down the stairs?"

"How come _I_ find that heavy?" Sarakshi asked, eyeing the suitcase he had slung over his shoulder, one hand closed around the handle, as if it weighed nothing more than a box of chocolates. Before eyeing the suitcase in his other hand. "No fair."

"The real question would be how you could possibly have brought along enough things to require_ two_ suitcases. Linda's room here is the most cluttered room I've seen in a while, and even she has one."

"You... were in Linda's room."

It was not a question: it was a statement. "Yes." His voice was dry. "I was."

Was she surprised? Perhaps she was. Sarakshi grinned. "Riiight," she said.

"Because I was passing and she asked me in," Marjani said drily.

"Oh don't make excuses, Suoh." There was a grin in her voice. "You can't pretend she didn't know you she'd kiss you the moment you stepped in."

"Has anyone ever told you you have an overactive imagination?" There was enough sarcasm in his voice to have killed quite a few people, could tones do so. "She wanted a desk moved. I moved it for her."

_She wanted more than a desk moved, you idiot,_ Sarakshi thought. Except that she had a feeling he knew that. Knew that better than she ever would. "You and your principles," she said, her voice soft.

"Shouldn't you be glad I have them? In case you haven't noticed.." His eyes locked with hers. "You don't seem to be doing too well with the guy who doesn't."

Her eyes widened. "I -"

"Woman." Sarakshi looked up and met Linda's gaze. The blonde was standing at the foot of the staircase, hands on hips and expression exasperated. "I come in to see if you've disappeared off the face of the planet, and you're standing there _chatting_?"

"Sorry." Sarakshi smiled, a smile that was just a tad flustered. "I lost track of time." Gathering the books she had been resting against the railing in her arms, she descended the staircase. She could see the red glimmer of Linda's car through the open front doors. Stepping up to it, she turned to Marjani. "Thanks for carrying the suitcases."

"I still want to know what you put in them," he said drily, lowering the suitcases into the car's boot.

"Books," Sarakshi said, raising the armful of books she'd carried out to show what she meant.

There was a pause in which Linda and Marjani both stared at her.

"What?" She asked, aware that she sounded defensive.

"You brought enough books to fill an entire _suitcase_?" Linda asked incredulously.

"Two suitcases," Sarakshi frowned. What did they think there was in the other suitcase, clothes? Her clothes were in her _handbag_. "I brought enough books to fill two suitcases because, in case it has escaped your notice Williams, we're having _exams_."

"I don't know you." Linda gave a mock sad shake of her head. "I don't know you."

"With friends like these.." Sarakshi said. She might have added something more to the sentence if her attention had not been diverted towards a babble of voices. Not just voices: unfamiliar voices. They were coming from just beyond the main gates; a man and a woman's. She stood on tiptoe to look past the car and outside the gates; a panel of black hair caught her eye. "Isn't that Yuki?" She asked.

"Yes." Marjani lowered the lid of the trunk in one swift movement. Then he was gone.

Was something wrong? Dropping her armful of books on top of the trunk, Sarakshi picked up her pace to follow him. Yuki came into clear view as she stepped outside the gates: the black-haired girl was standing next to what looked like a family.

"I understand that you've come from a long way off." Yuki's light voice met Sarakshi's ears. "But the ryokan is closed -" Closed because the place was a mess after the barbeque last night and Yuki needed to make sure it was tidied up, before customers or guests could be entertained again. "- and won't re-open until tomorrow. You should have checked with us in advance."

"But we're leaving for New York tomorrow night." The man had a hint of an accent. "My wife and kids were looking forward to visiting your ryokan. You could let us in if you choose -"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Okawa-san." Yuki's voice was sweet but firm. "We'll be open by eight AM tomorrow morning. I'm sure you can still make it before your flight."

The man frowned. "I understand you're the owner's daughter. I'm sure you could make an exception -"

"She can't." The cool voice made the man look up. His eyes widened when he saw Marjani step forward. "There are repairs going on. Until those happen, the ryokan is closed to visitors. I'm sure you -" Marjani's eyes - not cold but not warm, either - locked with the man's. "Understand that."

"Of - of course." The man took a hurried step back. "I'm sure we can return tomorrow." He looked at his wife. "Shall we go, love?"

"Of course." The woman looked more than just a little relieved that the verbal to-and-fro hadn't escalated into something angrier. "Let's - Jin." Her eyes widened. "Where's Hachirou? Hachirou? _Hachirou_?" She looked up at Yuki, her eyes wide. "I have to go in. My son.. he was just here. He must have run inside - he's always been a bit of an unmanageable child - he can't swim well -"

"Ma'am." Marjani placed a hand on each of her shoulders, his voice calm. Her eyes widened but she fell quiet, at once. "Please. Calm down. When did you last look to see if your son was with you?"

"When we arrived." The woman whispered. "He saw the closed sign. I knew he'd tried to sneak inside so I told him he wasn't allowed to cause any mischief whatsoever. I let my attention drift when Yuki-san came outside -" She looked up, into Marjani's face. "You have to let us look for him. Please."

"He can't have gotten far." Marjani's face was deadpan. He turned to Yuki. "You'll have to show them inside. I'll look for the kid."

"I'm coming with you." Jin took a step forward.

"No." Marjani's voice was cool.

Jin's eyes narrowed. "_This is my seven year old we're talking about!_"

Sarakshi knew at once that if this went on, it would not end well. Not end well for Jin _or_ for Yuki. She stepped between the two. "Jin-san." Her voice was quiet. "The ryokan spreads out into hot springs and all sorts of rocky territory. If you knew the area, I have no doubt you'd have been able to help. But you don't. Marjani does. I know you're worried but if you go with him, you'll be less of a help and more of a burden. Please understand that."

Jin took a few deep breaths. "I - I understand. I'm just shaken up. Hachirou is a bit of a troublemaker. It would be like him to jump into one of the springs if he comes across them. Like Yoru said, he can't swim well."

"We'll find him." Voice light but sure, Yuki stepped forward to offer Yoru Okawa and her teenage daughter a hand, each. "I'll show all of you inside."

She looked up at Marjani as she turned around.

"Call Tora," she said. "Tell him to get back now."

-;-

"So much for going back home and studying." Feet propped on the table, Linda leaned back in her chair and looked at the ceiling. It had been ten minutes since Yuki had swept Mr. and Mrs. Okawa and their teenager into the lounge next to the dining hall. In which dining hall Linda was now seated.

"Yoru-san looked like she was going to break down." Sarakshi dipped a teabag into a cup full of hot water, a frown on her face. She would not think about the possibility of losing her scholarship. Not now. "We couldn't have left Yuki to deal with that alone. Not when Kurumi and Kouma left earlier." If the two hadn't left in the morning and still been there, it might have been a different matter. It wasn't, however.

"Yeah." There was the sound of a door opening. Linda swung her legs off the table. "Guess the guys are back."

"I hope the kid's fine," Sarakshi said, voice soft. She followed Linda into the lounge at the same moment that Marjani stepped into it.

"My kid." Yoru Okawa jumped to her feet. "Where is he?"

"We couldn't find him in the immediate surroundings." Considering the fact that Yoru Okawa looked like she would throw herself sobbing on anyone who brought bad news, Marjani sounded quite, quite calm. "The ryokan comprises of a huge area. We'll have to send out a search party."

"I thought you told me." Jin's voice was livid. "That -"

"This is your son's fault, not ours, Mr. Okawa." The firmness in Yuki's voice, surprised Sarakshi. The older girl drew herself to her full height. "Your anger isn't helping matters. Please. Sit down. We're all on the same side here."

There was a vein throbbing in Jin's temple. "If anything happens to my son -"

"_Nothing_ is going to happen to your son -" Yuki began.

"That's all you keep saying." The fact that it was the teenage daughter who spoke, took everyone by surprise. "You've been saying it for the past ten minutes and guess what, miss?_ You haven't found him_." She rose to her feet. "I don't know how much longer you're going to wait before you start taking things seriously, but I am _not_ going to wait."

"Etsuko -" Yoru began. But the girl had stormed past her parents. Even though it took everyone seconds to realize that Etsuko Okawa was going after her brother on her own, by the time everyone realized this, the girl had already reached the door. "Etsuko, no -"

Sarakshi looked up, eyes wide. It happened in the blink of a second, all of it. Tora was standing in the door, leaning against the doorway with that perfect elegance of his. For a moment, she thought he wouldn't step back to let her pass and everything would be alright.

Then he had stepped back and Etsuko had stormed out and there was a moment of perfect - horrified - chaotic silence in the room.

"Why didn't you stop her?" Jin's voice was like thunder. "_Why the hell didn't you stop her?_" He jumped to his feet. "What are you waiting for? _Go after her!_"

"She made her choice." Tora's voice was cool and grew cooler, when Jin made to lunge past him and after his daughter. "Sit down. You don't know the area. Your son and daughter have already left. We don't need any more missing people on our to-find list." Ignoring the murderous glare on Jin's face with complete ease, he turned to Yuki. "Is there anyone on the team you can spare for the search?"

"No." Jin yelped. "You people are not -"

Yoru placed a hand on his forearm. "Please." There was a tremor in her voice. "Let them." She turned to Yuki. "Etsuko isn't a child. It's Hachirou who is. Please find him."

Yuki took a deep breath. "That's what we're trying to do, Yuro-san." She might not have added, _But your husband and children keep complicating matters_, but the message was clear without her having to put it into words. She turned to Tora. "None," she said quietly. "There were going to be no visitors. I gave all the workers the afternoon off. There are just Botan and Denji -"

Tora's eyes flickered. "Tell them the area past the second spring is theirs. They'll have to stick together." In the case they needed to climb up or down some of the terrain: it wouldn't be possible - or at least not easily possible; and to save time, it was essential to make sure everything would be _easily_ possible - to do that alone. "We'll need more people."

"I could call the other workers to return -"

"Not enough time." He paused. There was something different - almost cautious - about his voice when he spoke again. "Could you call your parents?"

Her eyes flickered. "No." Her voice was deadpan. "If I can't handle something as minor as this, I have no business running this ryokan."

There was a pause in which even Jin Okawa seemed to realize that yelling 'Call your parents this instant!' at Yuki would not do him or his children any good whatsoever. That that topic might prove to be enough of a minefield to make even someone as calm and composed and sweet as Yuki, lose her patience and lose it bad.

"I see." Tora's face was deadpan. "Can you come?"

"Tora." Yuki looked beyond conflicted. "I can't leave this place unattended -"

"I'll come," Sarakshi said.

The sole reason Tora would not make a snarky comment in response to that, Sarakshi was beyond sure, was the fact that Yuki looked like she would hurl something at him, if he chose such a moment to do so. Then he said, "And what? Stand there looking ridiculous in that over-sized sweater?" and she realized how mistaken she had been.

"_Tora_." There was warning in Yuki's tone.

"Of course." He swept into an elegant bow. "As you say. Linda?" He turned to the blonde in question. "We need all hands."

Linda arched an eyebrow. "I'll have to get rid of these shoes," she said, turning over a foot to show a glamorous six-inch heel.

"Shame." Tora's smile was oh-so-amiable. Then his expression smoothed into a more serious one. "Five minutes. Do whatever you need to do. Grab any supplies you think you'll need. You and Marjani can take the area -"

"Oh no, you don't." Sarakshi _knew_ what he was trying to do. "I'm going with Marjani. _Linda_ goes with you."

"Sarakshi." Yuki's voice was the impatient sort of patient. "We don't have time for -"

"You know what, Yuki? She's right." Tora's words caused Sarakshi to blink. She looked at him and he smiled, the kind of condescending smile he knew would cause her eyes to narrow. "If she's too nervous to be alone with me, she shouldn't have to -"

Sarakshi's jaw dropped open. "I am _not_ nervous -"

"Grab yourself a pair of shoes, Linda." Tora's voice was smooth: he cut across her with the kind of ease that would have meant - if she hadn't known better - that he had never heard what she had spoken. The action made Sarakshi want to kick him in the shin. "You and I have a kid to find -"

"Cut the crap, Igarashi." Sarakshi met his gaze, her own defiant. "I'm coming with you."

"It's fine, Sara-chan." His voice was all fake sugar. "If you don't think you can handle it, you don't have to -"

"I said." Her voice was fierce. _That_, Tora thought with a smirk, _was easy_. "I'm coming with you."

"It doesn't seem like I have time to argue." Tora's smirk was slow and practiced; and Sarakshi realized she might just have allowed herself to be manipulated into going along with what he had wanted her to go along with, all over again. "I'll get the supplies we might need, then." He straightened up and headed for the door that led into the adjoining room. "Too bad," he whispered as he swept past Marjani.

"I, unlike you, _am_ going in search of the kid." Marjani's response - as low as Tora's whisper had been - was calm.

"And I, unlike you -" Hand on doorknob, Tora turned around. And smirked. "Have fun."

-;-

"How do we know he's been here?" She'd tied her hair into a ponytail and after ten minutes of having walked further and further off from what she'd seen of the ryokan, Sarakshi was glad she had: if her hair had been getting into her eyes, she'd have felt even more frustrated than she did right now at Igarashi's utter lack of response.

"We don't."

"Then why are we here?"

"Because this is the area assigned to us. It's our job to make sure we look into each corner of it."

"Is that why we seem to have left the ryokan behind altogether?" Sarakshi asked warily. Because this was unfamiliar terrain. Rocks and stones and trees - and none of them affable.

"Don't worry, Ishin." He turned his head to look at her. His eyes dipped down her face and then lower and lower, in a manner that was intense and silken and pure, sheer wicked. "I'm not luring you into a spot none of the other people back at the ryokan know of... yet."

Her cheeks flushed. How could he find time to think of things like that, when she couldn't even find time to look up from the ground? It was uneven enough to give someone far more coordinated than her - and she _was_ coordinated. Plenty coordinated - trouble. "You do realize that kid could be in danger, don't you?" She asked, grabbing a branch to stabilize herself as she almost tripped over a rock jutting out from the ground.

"I also realize that tripping over rocks an idiot could see won't help his case."

He breezed past her as if walking on what seemed like a pile of broken rocks was something he did every other day. Sarakshi crossed her arms across her chest. "I hate you."

"I feel duly flattered."

She kicked a rock out of her path and followed him. "Igarashi..."

He slowed down but did not turn. "Ishin."

He said her name like a caress. Soft. Slow. Tantalizing. Turned it into something far more than a name. Sarakshi's cheeks flamed. "Don't do that!"

He turned around. There was a smirk on his face that would have made the devil proud. "Do what?" He asked, his voice oh-so-innocent.

"That girl.."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Mr. and Mrs. Okawa's daughter." She fell into step besides him, frowning down at the ground as she spoke. "Etsuko. Why did you let her pass?"

"She wanted to find her brother."

"Which I'm quite sure you couldn't have cared less about."

"You have a point."

Had she expected an actual response? Sarakshi resisted the urge to sigh. "You knew she could get hurt."

"She's seventeen, not seven. The seven year old? We're looking for him."

"You do realize that would have been a wonderful response if it had had anything to do with the original question, don't you?"

"She made a decision, Ishin. That's how life works. You make decisions. You act on them."

"If she lands into trouble, she's going to regret it."

"Just as she could have regretted never having left her comfort zone, if she didn't and her brother ended up hurt. But then she'd have had someone else to blame. Me. You. Everyone sitting in that lounge who didn't let her pass. Now she doesn't have anyone else but herself to blame. She could have stayed back or she could have gone after him. No one influenced her decision."

"She could get hurt," Sarakshi said softly.

"Then it's her fault for attempting to do something she wasn't capable of doing."

His voice was as cold as it was indifferent; cold and indifferent enough to cause her eyes to widen. "Not everything is directed by cold-blooded logic." _Not everything is directed how you direct your life._ "We can't always be in control."

"Not everything has to be directed by reckless emotion, either." His voice was cold. "We can't always leave everything to chance."

"Sometimes -"

"Be quiet."

Sarakshi's eyes narrowed. She would have snapped at him if she hadn't realized at that precise moment that, for once, the statement was not meant to get on her nerves. He had come to a halt outside a line of bushes. Eyes narrowing, he pushed them aside to reveal a large expanse of water. Large rocks flanked it on either side; across it she could see a tangle of stone structures and trees.

"It's a hot spring." Sarakshi's voice was soft.

"It's wild land." Tora's voice was cool. "The Shinomoris don't own it."

"But Hachirou could be there."

"Not if he came in the same direction as us. His mother said he can't swim well. He wouldn't have attempted to wade across. Then again -" He smiled very pointedly at her - "I know stupider people."

"I doubt the kid was thinking what was stupid and what not," Sarakshi glared. "He must have been scared to death."

"Of what?" Tora asked, voice sarcastic. "The trees?"

"He's a kid, not -" She met his eyes, her smile oh-so-sweet. "- some immature, over-rich pervert who'd decide to sit down and decide what the best way to manipulate the trees to hell and back might be, just for the sake of it."

"You're right," Tora agreed silkily. "He_ has_ no class."

How the heck could he turn that description of him into a compliment? "You're hopeless."

"Does it feel nice to delude yourself into thinking you aren't?" He kicked a fallen branch out of his path. "Right. We're going to go ahead and look for that kid. But let's make a few things clear, before we do. You _will_ listen to me. If I tell you to stop, you will stop. If I tell you to get back, you will get back. Is that understood?"

Sarakshi's eyes narrowed. "I don't need a leader, Igarashi." She was not going to allow him, of all people, to treat her like an additional burden. Because she could more than hold her own. "I'm more than capable of taking care of -" Her eyes widened as he pushed her back against a tree. "What do you think you're do -"

"I have no time to talk sense into you." His voice was cold and - her eyes widened at the realization - serious. Not the kind of serious that was a threat. The kind of serious that was just that: Serious. Responsible. In control. She was aware his hand was clenched around the collar of her shirt; for once, there was nothing suggestive and everything authoritative about the action. "If I thought you couldn't take care of yourself, I would have said no the moment you said you would come with us. The last thing I need is someone who would require looking after. If I'd thought I was going to have to save you from every little thing, I wouldn't have let you burden Marjani _or_ me. The reason you're here, commoner, is because I think you can handle what's here."

"I don't need you -"

"You don't know the land. I do. You're reckless. I'm not. I don't want you making trouble for yourself or for me. It has nothing to do with which one of us is better. It has to do with making sure neither of us ends up injured while looking for an idiotic kid I have no interest whatsoever in. If you're going to let your ego get in the way of that, you _will_ stay here until I return."

Was that what it was? Her ego? Of course it was. What else was there between them, other than an unspoken battle of wills and egos? She hadn't wanted to agree to him, because she hadn't wanted him to have the satisfaction of knowing she admitted that he could be better at something than her. Even if that something resulted from his knowledge of a place she had never been to. Because how the heck was she supposed to have known that for once, he wouldn't take her admittance to mean the same thing as, _You're superior to me_.

He was wrong, though. Wrong if he thought she would let something like that get in the way of something so much more important than any amount of rivalries.

He let go of her and stepped back. She looked up at him, eyes wide; cheeks flushed; chest heaving.

Then she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it the floor.

His eyes widened; the shirt fell to the floor with the wind and he was aware of the curve of her bra under the thin cloth of the slip that ended just above her thighs.

She walked to the edge of the spring, rolled up her jeans to her knees, and stepped into the water.

"Get a move on, Igarashi. You're wasting time," she said.

-;-

"How come the Shinomoris don't own this land?" Sarakshi asked. The warm water lapped around her waist. She couldn't have said she wasn't glad of that - the terrain would have been dead-cold if it hadn't been for the hot spring.

"The previous owners wanted to sell as much of the place as possible." Their plans of building a ryokan around the site had been cut short, for financial reasons. Financial reasons that had been bad enough to make them agree to selling parts of the land, when bidders hadn't emerged. "Shinomori-san didn't want to purchase all of it."

"It's an experiment?" Sarakshi asked, surprised.

"You could call it that. It's in Yuki's name. She hasn't decided if she'll return from London after completing her studies, however. If she decides to, her father acquires the rest of the land. If she decides otherwise, he sells."

"She lives in London?"

"No, in China. Takes a plane to London each morning to attend school."

Sarakshi glared at him. "I was surprised!"

"I do apologize." His voice was a drawl. "I had no idea normal people showed surprise by stating the obvious."

Water splashed in all four directions as she stomped past him in a streak of furious red hair, muttering under her breath. He heard the word 'Idiot' as she did so, and a grin curved his mouth. Quite the little time-bomb, wasn't she?

The grin vanished the moment he remembered the flick of her wrist as she had pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it the ground.

Perhaps he had underestimated her. That was an almost... amusing notion. She wasn't just sure of herself: she was sure of what she wanted. When it came to something that mattered - _saving a kid. How typical_, he thought with a curl of his lip - she no longer cared who she was with. What the consequences could be. She would not let mundane things such as that hold her back. It irked him. That confidence that came from her naive belief in doing the right thing, irrespective of the consequences.

_Get over it, Igarashi. You're irked because the sight affected you._

He was. Damn it, he was. He was irked because an action as simple as that - her tossing off a shirt - should not have caused his throat to go dry. He'd seen women in far less items of clothing enough often. More than often enough. It was a pleasure he controlled and not a pleasure that controlled _him_. He could take it or leave it - and he made sure the woman he administered it to never desired the latter option again.

Which was all the more reason that the fact that the sight affected him, irked him.

It wasn't supposed to. The hell, it wasn't supposed to. The fact that an inexperienced little chit who couldn't care less about physical contact could make him want push her against a wall and kiss her breathless, by just tossing off a _t-shirt_, was maddening.

"Do you think she'll come back?"

He looked up. The two of them had reached the end of the spring: she was poised at the edge, one foot placed on a rock. "Yuki, I mean," she said.

"If I ask her," he smirked.

Why had she even bothered? "Has it ever occurred to you that the world might not revolve around you?"

"No," he said smoothly. "I tend to believe in reality."

She smiled, despite herself. "With an ego the size of yours, I'm amazed you can even walk," she said as she leaped out of the spring and on to the rocks in one light movement. He saw the flash of her bra underneath her slip - the sodden slip clinging to her chest as she rose from the water - the droplets of water clinging to her legs -

"You look." Water dripping into his eyes, he took her chin in his hand and angled it upwards. Forced her to look up at him. "... scandalous," he breathed, his fingers brushing her chest in a touch that was feather-light and tantalizing as he let his hand fall down.

"If by scandalous you mean willing to murder you if anything happens to that kid because you were dawdling around being your usual self." She met his eyes, her gaze cool. "I'm afraid you're quite right." She turned around and hitched her bag up her shoulder. "Where do we go from here?"

"Look at you being all trusting." His voice was wicked, as he pulled his shirt back on.

"Igarashi -"

She broke off. She wasn't sure if it was the crash or the yelp that came first. Perhaps both of them happened in unison. There was a resounding _crunch_ and a muffled yelp,and both of them turned to look into the direction of the noise, at the same time. There was nothing there but large rocks and hill-like structures that jutted out of the ground to tangle with thorn-adorned bushes and wild masses of trees.

"Let's go." His voice had gone serious: how serious, surprised her. He swept past her and hitching her bag higher up her shoulder, Sarakshi followed. She could have told the two of them were headed uphill, even if she hadn't been able to see it: the terrain became steeper and steeper until she was at the top of a large flat surface.

"Where -" She began.

The sound of a muffled yell startled her.

"It's coming from down there."

Sarakshi looked up at the sound of his voice to see him standing at the far end of the surface. With quick steps, she closed the distance between them and followed his gaze down below.

Her eyes widened.

The drop was sharp and steep and dangerous. Down below, at its bottom, stretched out a mass made up of bare patches of land and abundant patches of trees and bushes. The muffled yelp - a girl's - broke through the silence once more and even though neither of them could see Etsuko, it couldn't have been clearer that the yell had come from down below. "If she fell -" Sarakshi said, voice soft. She was going to be injured if she had fallen. Sarakshi cupped her hands around her mouth. "_Etsuko_" She called out. "_You hurt?_"

The muffled shout again. It was impossible to make out words.

"_Are you_ -" Sarakshi began.

"We don't have time to waste." Tora cut across her. He flipped open the clasp on his bag - brought out a piece of rope - scanned the area for a hold -

Realized there was none.

The surface was flat: there was no hold. Nothing the rope could be tied to without either of them having to be concerned about it coming loose.

Which meant that one of them would have to remain up there and hold on to the darned thing.

"There's no hold." He looked up, voice deadpan. "You're going to have to climb down." He would, except that - "You won't be able to pull me and a girl back up. You aren't strong enough."

Not strong enough. Their gazes met. Held. She realized a number of things in that one instant. That he wouldn't have asked her to go down if he didn't think she was capable of making it to the ground and back with a girl who might be injured, safely in tow. That he trusted her to do it.

That she didn't think he was strong enough to do what he was going to be doing; and accepting his words, meant accepting that.

"You're right," she said.

His eyes flickered. Then he slipped off his gloves and held them out. She arched an eyebrow.

"Ropes chafe hands." His voice was cool.

She walked up to him and took them from him without a word. The gloves were warm from wear - a dizzying sort of warm - and she resisted the unexplainable urge to shiver as she pulled them on. "You should.. you should call Yuki." She said, aware of how quiet her voice had gone.

"I have." Then - "If the girl is injured, the sooner someone gets to her the better."

"I know." She looked down at the expanse of rock-and-tree down below. Her eyes flickered. It was a sharp drop; she hoped Etsuko had not fallen down. She turned around and met Tora's gaze. "What are we waiting for?"

He walked up to her. Her clothes clung to her like their lives depended on it: he could trace her outline, from the tip of her sneakers and the rolled-up jeans to the cream-like expanse of her shoulder and the curve of her chest. It occurred to him that if she had kissed Fenshani the previous night, she would have done it of her own free will. Both times he had kissed her, there had been no free will of hers involved. His thumb brushed her cheek in a movement that was as light as it was graceful. "Don't be too reckless." He was aware his voice had a rough edge to it; the kind of rough edge that is more than plain huskiness. "I'm not in the mood to save you."

"I don't need saving." She swallowed, as if that would clear the catch in her throat. "Let's do this."

-;-

The dangling rope came to an end half a foot above the ground. Sarakshi jumped down; the soles of her shoes met the ground with a hard _thud_. She flipped open the bag-pack strapped on to her back to take out her cellphone and raised it as a sign to let him know she would call if she had to.

Then she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out.

"Etsuko?" For some reason, she had expected her voice to echo: it didn't. _Isn't that how it happens in the movies?_ She thought as she scanned the area. "_Etsuko? Where are you?_"

The muffled shout she had heard earlier met her ears.

Sarakshi quickened her pace and followed it. She called out a couple of more times as she did so: the fact that she could now make out the muffled shouts as words - "Help!" and "I'm here! Here!" - told her she was on the right track. She took what turned out to be a wrong turn. Bruised her kneecap against a scraggly, scratchy tree. Walked into another dead end. Stomped across a line of tangled-up bushes and bruised the same kneecap _again_. Pushed aside an overhanging branch... and almost tripped over Etsuko.

"Etsuko!" Taking a quick step back, Sarakshi looked down at the girl curled up on the ground, and breathed a sigh of relief. Which turned into an O of surprise. "_Hachirou_?" She knelt down in front of Etsuko - whose legs and arms were covered in dirt and scratches but who otherwise seemed fine and whole and intact - who was holding on to a kid who looked frightened to death. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"I'm.. I'm fine." Etsuko looked a mixture of shaken up and relieved that might have been humorous, if the situation hadn't been what it was. "I took the path I thought Hachirou was likeliest to take. I heard him ahead of me and called out to him. It scared him off, though. He didn't realize it was me. I ran after him, we tumbled down a low hill of some sort -" She looked back and Sarakshi realized that Etsuko was looking the in the direction _opposite_ to the one Sarakshi had come from. Which meant that Etsuko and Hachirou had never crossed the spring she and Tora had. "I thought we could get back - it wasn't a steep hill at all - but Hachirou was scared and panicked - I don't know how it happened, honestly, it was such a blur - there were these trees and and ended up here -"

"Okay. Calm down." Etsuko was beginning to sound like Sora. Which was not a good sign because Etsuko _wasn't_ Sora. Etsuko was your usual high schooler and when your usual high schooler began to talk like Sora Kiyoshi, it meant he or she was a bundle of wrecked nerves. "Here. Drink this." She held out two plastic water-bottles. "Both of you." Once the two had gulped down the water, she rose to her feet. "Can you two stand?"

"I.. I can. I was just too scared to look for a path." Shaken but determined, Etsuko rose to her feet. "I knew you people would come to look for us. I thought if I stayed in one place -"

"It's fine." Sarakshi placed an arm around the girl and looked down at Hachirou. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah." He didn't look alright, though. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. "I was just having fun."

_Of course you were_, Sarakshi thought drily. Bending down, she ruffled his hair. "You'll be fine. We all mistakes, now and then. The important thing is to learn from them. Come on." She held out a hand. He took it after a moment of looking uncertain - she had a feeling he'd have thrown a fit of sulkiness if the situation hadn't been as dire as it was - and she had to smile. "Let's go."

-;-

"I have to... hold on to this?" Etsuko's face was white.

"Yes." Sarakshi said. She glanced at the rope: it didn't look like it was going to break. Etsuko should have nothing to be worried about. "You'll be fine, trust me."

"Why can't we go back the way I came -"

"Because I can't find the path." Sarakshi resisted the urge to sigh: the two of them had been through this, less than a minute ago. Her kneecap stung worse than it should have had a right to, and she wanted to get back to her room safe and sound and without having to further exert her legs as much as Etsuko did. "Even if I do and we somehow manage to get back to the spot you two tumbled down from, I don't know anything about that part of the area. Holding on to a rope is better than being lost in an unfamiliar place where you can't ask anyone for directions."

"Of - of course." Etsuko looked at the rope. "It's - it isn't going to break?"

"No." Sarakshi gave her an encouraging smile. "You just have to make sure you don't let go of the rope. Tora will pull you up."

"Can you.." Etsuko hesitated. "Can you come with me? Can I hold on to you?"

Sarakshi blinked. She looked up at Tora who arched a questioning eyebrow.

"Can you pull both of us up at the same time?" She called out to him. "She... wants to hold on to me."

The devilish grin that flickered across his mouth more than told her that the sole reason he was not going to make a highly and utterly inappropriate comment about another girl wanting to hold on to her, was Etsuko and Hachirou's presence. "Anytime," he called out, the glint in his eyes wicked.

She glared at him before turning around to face Etsuko. "Right. You can hold on to me and he'll pull both of us up."

"How do I know you're not going to slip?" Etsuko asked.

Sarakshi stared at her.

Etsuko's cheeks flushed. "I know I suggested it! Because I _will_ feel safer that way. But -"

Sarakshi sighed. "This is going to be hard. I know that. But it isn't impossible. You came this far because you wanted to find and protect your brother. Well, you've found him. Now you need to get your act together and make sure he stays safe. Is that or is that not the reason you followed him?"

Etsuko's eyes widened. "Y-yes." She glanced at Hachirou. Her voice became quieter. "I still want him to go first. Please," she added.

"I can't convince him." Sarakshi said, pointblank. She had tried: she'd tried for a whole five minutes. "He wants you safe before he lets anyone pull him up, because he thinks this is his fault. And if you ask me." She met Etsuko's gaze. "He's right." The girl's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak; Sarakshi didn't give her a chance to. "Sooner or later, he has to learn to own up to his mistakes, Etsuko. He did something beyond irresponsible today. He's safe for now. But he has to learn that his actions will and do have consequences. Because next time he does something irresponsible, you might not be around to go after him and make sure he's okay."

Etsuko's eyes flickered. "Fine." Her voice was quiet. "I can.." Her cheeks flushed with sudden embarrassment. "I can hold on to you, right? It's just that.. I want to be brave but I have a fear of heights and -"

Sarakshi's lips twitched into half a smile. "You don't have to explain yourself. Let's go."

-;-

Her knee... felt useless. Sarakshi flexed it as Etsuko disentangled herself from her and straightened up. The action caused her to wince.

Ouch. That _hurt_.

"How was it, then?" Tora's voice in her ear caused her to jump an inch in the air. "The ride?" She felt the wicked amusement in his words, in the semi-second his breath was hot on her neck. Then he had straightened up, as if nothing had happened. "I called Yuki and told her we have the daughter and the son, both. She's called off the search."

"I'm sure that's excellent." Sarakshi glared daggers at him before stomping off to where she had set down her backpack. Or attempting to stomp off, at least. Her knee shot a twinge of pain up her leg the moment she tried to do so. She paused to frown down at it. _Just what I needed at a time like this_. Sitting down on the flat surface, she picked up her bag - extracted the remaining water-bottle - and realized Tora was looking at her across the cliff. There was something different in his gaze, something she could not recognize.

"What?" She asked.

He threw the rope at her.

Sarakshi let go of the bottle to catch the rope, the action pure reflex. "What do you think you're doing?" She asked, incredulous. "We still have to get Hachirou."

"_I_ have to get Hachirou." His voice was cool. "You." His voice was pointed. "Will stay here."

Sarakshi arched an eyebrow. "I realize you want to partake in the risks, Igarashi, but I thought we decided I couldn't pull you up. You might be fine with falling off the face of the earth but I'm sure Hachirou isn't -"

"Be quiet."

Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"I said." He dropped to one knee in front of her. His figure towered over her, engulfing her in shadow. The sudden infiltration of her personal space caused Sarakshi's eyes to widen. "Be quiet."

"_What the hell are you doing_?" She hissed.

"Getting myself a drink," he breathed. Leaning down so that she could feel the heat radiating off him, he picked up the bottle she had let go of from her lap and rose to his feet. Then he turned around to smirk at her. "You look short of breath, Ishin. Something the matter?"

"I -" Sarakshi forced the colour in her cheeks down. Her heart hammered against her chest; she was glad Etsuko was bent over the edge of the cliff, waving down to Hachirou. "Something is seriously wrong with your head."

He smirked. "Pick up that rope, throw it down the cliff, and hold on to it."

Her eyes widened. "I can't -"

"You don't have to pull me up." His voice was curt. "If you can hold on to that rope, I can climb up."

She frowned. "Have you looked at the size of you?" She realized she had said something very, _very_ wrong the moment his eyes lit up with their signature wicked glint. Colour flooded into her cheeks. "I meant - You weigh more than I could -" Crap. She'd done it again. Cheeks now the same colour as her hair, Sarakshi glared at everything and everyone that wasn't him. "I don't know what you're up to, but if I hold that rope, I'm going to topple over the edge," she snapped.

"Which is why you get her." He pointed a thumb in Etsuko's direction. "To help you."

Sarakshi's eyes widened. It was possible. If she and Etsuko both held on to the rope...

"I don't see a reason to change the plans."

"I do." He straightened up and she realized she might as well not have tried: the moment Tora Igarashi set his mind on something was the moment it became certain it would happen. "You. Girl."

"Etsuko," Sarakshi said, voice cool. "Her name's Etsuko." She sighed. "You do realize we can't pull you up, don't you? You'll have to climb up." He arched an eyebrow, as if it to say, _Obviously_, and she nodded, a small nod. There was a pause in which she looked down at a spot on the ground.

Then slipped off the gloves she had been wearing and held them out.

"I've heard ropes chafe hands," she said.

-;-

"If you do that again -" Tora began, his voice cold.

Sarakshi knocked her elbow into his chest.

"You have got to be kidding me." Tora came to a pause inside the spring. The four of them were returning to the ryokan. Etsuko was ahead of the two of them by several feet. Hachirou?

Clinging to Tora's back.

Now that he realized there was no doubt he was safe and no doubt he _wasn't_ scared to death, the kid had returned to his usual make-trouble-for-the-world-with-a-vengeance self. He had refused to wade through the water. Which had been understandable since the water was too deep for him and he had no idea how to swim.

Then he had refused to let Etsuko carry him across and shot down all plans the rest of them came up with to make sure he got across safe and sound and dry, and Sarakshi had realized the kid just wanted to be difficult. She had tried talking sense into him, to no avail. For a minute there, Sarakshi had wanted to bang her head into a tree in frustration.

Then Tora had grabbed the kid by the shoulder and told him that he if he didn't straighten up this instant, so help him he was going to leave him on the bank.

The end result?

Hachirou had declared he would cross the spring on Tora's back or not cross it at all.

"He's just a child." Sarakshi came to a halt next to him.

"He's a child who keeps _biting_ me," Tora said, through gritted teeth.

Sarakshi resisted the urge to laugh. She'd never been good at hiding her emotions though; Tora's eyes narrowed. "And may I ask what." His voice was cold. "Is so hilarious about a seven year old who acts like a two year old, clinging to my back?"

"O Lucifer, Star of the Morning, how art thou fallen," Sarakshi quoted, voice and grin both wicked.

Her tone was as full of clear mischievous as her eyes were; a shadow of a grin crossed his face. "Vixen," he drawled lazily.

"I'd call you a fox, but it just doesn't have the same ring to it." There was laughter in her eyes, now. "Though -" She broke off as a gigantic splash sprayed water all over them. "Etsuko! You alright?"

"I tripped." Etsuko - now sopping wet - straightened up with an expression that was part-frown part-panic. "I'm not sure how -"

"You're just a little shaken up." Sarakshi closed the distance between them to come a halt next to Etsuko. "You'll be fine."

"Yeah..." There was silence as the two of them waded across the spring. The kind of silence that's dull but not un-nice. Sarakshi leaped out of the spring when the two of them reached the edge; bending down, she held out a hand for Etsuko.

"Thanks." Etsuko allowed herself to be pulled out. She turned around once on shore to look at her brother, clinging to Tora's back. "I.." She looked up to meet Sarakshi's questioning gaze. "It was stupid of me to run after him like that, wasn't it?" She asked. "I put all of you through further trouble. I apologize."

_Just as she could have regretted never having left her comfort zone, if she didn't and her brother ended up hurt. We can't always leave everything to chance._

"You did the right thing." She smiled; Etsuko's eyes widened in surprise. Leaning down to pick the bag she had placed on the ground, Sarakshi straightened up.

"We can't always leave everything to chance," she said quietly.

-;-

"I apologize for -" Yuki began.

"Don't." Sarakshi cut across. She'd arrived less than fifteen minutes ago with Etsuko and Hachirou in tow. She was standing in the middle of the dining hall now and there was a sweater thrown over her sodden wet slip. "You've had enough to deal with yourself." She smiled. "I'd pick a bit of wild land over having to deal with Okawa-san -" The male Okawa-san, that was. "- any day."

"You didn't have to pick either." Yuki's voice was soft. "You were leaving."

"But I didn't." Sarakshi glanced at the door of the lounge. There was utter chaos inside, what with Yoru refusing to let go of her son. Who refused to let go of Tora, for the sake of causing as much trouble as he possibly could. "I should take a bath." She motioned to her sweater. Which was now as wet as the shirt she'd pulled on after stepping out of the spring, had become. "I look like an utter mess."

"Much as I'd love to be polite, I can't say you don't." There was a graceful sort of smile on Yuki's face.

"See you in a bit." Sarakshi headed for the staircase. Paused. "Yuki?"

Yuki glanced up. "Yes?"

"Where are Marjani and Linda?"

"Linda went to take a quick shower. I have no idea where Marjani is."

"Oh." Sarakshi paused. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Sarakshi gave her half a smile as she headed up the wooden staircase. She arrived in her room a minute or two later. Filling up the bathtub with hot water, she dipped a foot inside. Fifteen minutes later with a towel folded up and placed on her head, she felt soaked to the bone in warm water. Eyes closed, she sank to the bottom of the tub. This... was relaxing. She could do with more of this. Half-smiling to herself as she rose out of the water, she shook water out of her hair, wrapped one of the white bath-towels around herself, and stepped out into her room.

"I like the blue bath-towels better," a lazy voice said. "Far smaller. Far sexier."

Eyes widening, Sarakshi looked up to see Tora. He was leaning against the closed door, the sole of one foot resting against it, one hand in one of his pockets and one hand holding some sort of box against his shoulder. There was a devilish grin playing around his mouth. His eyes dipped from her face to the cleavage the towel wrapped around her did not altogether conceal, and heat erupted in her cheeks and neck.

"Get out." Sarakshi could feel her cheeks turning scarlet. She hitched her towel up and held it against her chest in a grip so firm, it numbed her fingers. "_Now_."

"Not in a position to fight me off, are you?" He walked up to her, his steps slow and purposeful. She scrambled backwards on impulse, and met the edge of the bed. His fingers lifted a lock of her hair with the lightest of touches as he closed the distance between them until their bodies were centimetres apart. He let the strand of hair go: it fell down to her neck in a heated flutter of scarlet.

"If you don't leave_ this instant_, I'm going to -"

He pushed her.

It wasn't a hard or rough push. It was the kind of push that wouldn't have made her budge - let alone hurt her - if the circumstances had been normal. The circumstances weren't normal however; and Tora, being Tora, knew that. She fell backwards, on the bed. She might not have - might have regained her balance - might have pushed him off - _anything_ - if her mind had not gone numb with the panicked need to ensure that the towel didn't slip. Her back met the soft top mattress: she sat up the moment it did, her eyes livid, her breathing furious.

"You _idiot_ -"

He dropped to one knee in front of her.

Her eyes narrowed in equal parts surprise and wariness. There was a soft thud and she realized he'd let go of the box he had been holding. "You never can keep quiet, can you?" He asked, voice soft as he lifted something from the box; her eyes widened as she realized it was a bandage. For several stunned seconds, she was too caught-off-guard - too stunned at the cold touch of ointment on her knee - to even think of reacting, let alone react. The realization that her injured knee was the reason he hadn't allowed her to climb down again washed over her like a bucketful of shock.

"What are you -" She swallowed the lump in her throat. "What do you think you're doing, Igarashi?"

"What you weren't going to do," he said lazily, without looking up at her.

"You can't break into my room," she whispered. He was too close, and she could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. "Not without my permission."

"It seems I just did." His voice was a drawl and his hands were warm and nimble and fast. "Perhaps you could lock your door next time." He tied the bandage with perfect neatness, wiped his hands on a mini-towel, and rose to his feet. "Sounds like a plan, doesn't it now?"

She didn't get him. Lord, she didn't get him. "You expect me to believe you won't still break in, if you want to?" She asked, voice quiet.

"I said you could lock your door next time. I didn't." He paused in front of the door, his back to her. "Say it would work."

Her breath caught. "I -"

Hand on the doorknob, he turned around. "You do realize that the towel slipped while you were watching me, don't you?" He drawled.

WHAT? Eyes widening and cheeks flushing a vivid crimson, Sarakshi looked down at her chest in the kind of breathless panic and mortification she hadn't experienced in years... and realized the towel was still in place. Swearing in one furious breath, she snapped her head up to glare at him -

He smirked a smirk that would have put the Devil to shame, and disappeared through the door.

-;-

"Tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing."

Seated on the dining room floor with her back resting against a wall, Sarakshi looked up. Marjani was standing in front of her, one eyebrow arched. Grinning, she set down her pen on top of her Physics textbook.

"I thought I might as well get something productive done, now that I'm going to be here for a while." She ought to have left. Considering that Jin Okawa had decided all the drama earned him a right to be given a tour of the ryokan and Yuki had been too nice and considerate to say no this time around however, she knew she couldn't have. Not when the sole person Yuki had around to help her was Marjani. (Igarashi didn't count, she told herself vehemently.) "Not that I'd expect the upper class to understand such mundane matters as studying," she added with a grin.

"Since you aren't part of said upper class." He dropped into a seating position next to her. "Shouldn't you have left?"

"Good question. I have one of my own: How do you solve this thing?"

She had propped her notebook on his lap, and was now bent over said notebook with a frown creasing her forehead. Her hair fell over her face like a curtain. His fingers brushed it back and tucked it behind an ear. "What makes you think I'd know something as mundane as this?" He asked, voice deep.

"Smart aleck." She glanced up to grin at him, before returning to her books. "So you divide the instantaneous rate of change by..." She scribbled the equation on the notebook and frowned. "This..." She looked up at him with a decided frown. "Does not make sense."

His eyes locked with hers. "What's wrong with you?"

Her eyes widened. Then she motioned to the books now littered all over him. "I have an exam tomorrow."

"Am I." His voice was deadpan. "Expected to buy that?"

Sarakshi fixed her eyes on her notebook. "So this goes here -"

"Sarakshi."

She closed the notebook and looked up at him. "Yes." She crossed her arms against her chest. "Something is wrong. No. I'm not going to tell you what it is."

"You don't have to." Marjani's voice was dry. "We all know it starts a T and ends with an I."

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. "Has anyone ever picked a fight you?" She opened her eyes and met his. "Right," she said. "Scratch that. Stupid question. I wouldn't pick a fight with someone who looked like that -" She motioned to his chest. "Either."

"You'd pick a fight with anyone mistreating someone who couldn't stick up for themselves," Marjani sad drily. "Irrespective of their appearance."

He _did_ have a point. "Well. If it's any consolation, I wouldn't pick a fight with someone like you without a _pretty_ good reason. Besides." She flipped open her notebook again. "Even if I did, I wouldn't expect to win. Not if it were a literal fight. I'd be aiming to defend. Never works out well if your opponent's that much stronger _and_ on the offensive."

"You have a Physics exam tomorrow, not a judo match. Get back to work."

She grinned. "Since when have you become concerned about my grades?"

"Since when have you resorted to using an entire discourse on combat tactics, to evade statements that have to do with Tora?"

Her eyes widened. "I wasn't -" She paused. Wasn't she? "I don't like him. He doesn't like me. What else _is_ there to discuss?"

"How about the fact that you played right into his hands, earlier."

His voice was devoid of emotion. Sarakshi looked up, into his face. Into the angled dark features. He _was_ beautiful, wasn't he? She had the urge to brush her hand across his cheek. So she did that. Cupped his cheek. "You can't always look out for me," she said softly.

"And you." His eyes were unreadable. His hand closed around hers and lowered it, without letting go. "Can't always dodge my questions."

"Your cousin is the manipulator here." She leaned her head against his shoulder - how could an action as simple make her certain everything would be alright, she wondered. Turn her world from furious storm to perfect calm? - and inhaled the sharp smell of limes and the outdoor. "You should lecture him, not me."

"You know, it's bad manners to talk about someone present like they aren't there." Startled at the sound of a voice she knew all too well, Sarakshi pulled back from Marjani. To see Tora seated at the dining table set several feet away from where she and Marjani sat. His shirt was unbuttoned, his hair windswept, and his feet propped up on the table. "Could make them feel left out," he said, voice mock sad.

"I can't believe this," Sarakshi said incredulously. "You've been _eavesdropping_ on us? What next? Peeping through keyholes?"

"Not if you forget to lock your door," he drawled. "If you.. get what I mean."

_I said you could lock your door next time. I didn't say it would work._ Sarakshi's cheeks flushed in anger and embarrassment, at the reminder in his voice. "I can't believe I even talk to you," she snapped. Rising to her feet, she stormed out of the room.

For several moments, there was total silence in her wake. Then Marjani looked up and met Tora's gaze.

"Did I disturb your little date?" Tora smirked. "I do apologize. I had no idea she would... walk out on you."

"You know what?" Picking up the books she had left scattered on the floor, Marjani rose to his feet. Let his eyes lock with Tora's. "Your jealousy would be amusing, if it weren't so apparent."

Tora's eyes widened.

Marjani set down the books on the table and left the room.

-;-

Jealous. He was beginning to find the number of times he'd heard that word in the past half-week, irritating. Did it irk him to see her with someone else? No. The hell it didn't. Yes, he had hit that ball to put some distance between her and Takihara. Yes, he'd broken up whatever had been going on between her and Marjani this afternoon.

No, it was not because he was jealous.

She was his entertainment, and he didn't share.

It was as simple as that.

_As simple as that_. Uncorking the half-full bottle of sake on the counter, Tora poured its contents into glass a little too fast. Some of the sake splashed on to the counter.

"Tora."

He turned around. "Yuki." His voice was cool. "What brings you here?"

She glanced up at him - at the irritation and anger and cold rage in his eyes - and then at the mess on the counter. "Is something wrong?" She asked. She realized she'd made a mistake the moment the words escaped her mouth: his expression smoothed into the blank, indifferent, silken one she knew all too well.

"I'm drinking. Care to join?"

Her eyes narrowed. Tora never drank more than one glass of sake. And Tora _never_ drank in the afternoon. "It's three in the afternoon."

"And that is important because?"

She walked up to the counter and touched the sake splashed all over it with the tip of one slender finger. "Perhaps because." She looked up at him and met his gaze, her own calm. "I don't remember the last time you splashed a drink when pouring it."

He set down his glass. "Why are you here?" His voice was cold. Dead cold.

"There's a girl in your room."

"If you were expecting to find something different when you walked in, you should have let me know in advance."

His tone was the offensive kind of amiable; Yuki's eyes narrowed. "She isn't invited, whoever she is," she said coldly.

"She's Kanade's cousin and -" He met her gaze, his own cold - "I invited her."

"Kanade's cousin seems to be a redhead." She gave him a sweet smile. "Interesting."

"I see you handled the situation with Okawa without having to call your father," Tora drawled. "Interesting."

Yuki's eyes widened in equal parts shock and anger. Then both shock and anger vanished. Footsteps light, she walked up to him. "Tora." Her hand cupped his cheek and lowered his face to hers in a manner that was as gentle as it was graceful. _You're not going to get a rise out of me when you look like that._ "What's wrong?" She asked, her voice soft.

He extended an arm and angled the glass over the sink; the sake poured down the sink until the glass no longer contained so much as a single drop. "Too much sake," he said, gently removing her hand from his cheek; it fell to her side with the softest of touches. Without a word, he picked a cloth-rag and set it down on the counter to soak up the splashed drink. Then he lowered the glass, replaced the bottle, and left the kitchen.

She stared at the door he had disappeared through, a frown on her face.

_Too much sake._

"You didn't even taste the first glass, you idiot," she said softly.

-;-

"I can't find it." Sarakshi bit her lip and looked up at Linda. Who opened a vacant drawer and slid it shut.

"That was the last drawer." The blonde's voice carried a frown. She had helped Sarakshi search her (now vacant) room twice in the past fifteen minutes and the two of them were still unable to find Sarakshi's batch of misplaced books. Frowning, Linda glanced up at the watch. Half past four. If the two of them dawdled anymore, it would be late evening before either of them could so much as step inside their houses. "You sure you didn't take those books out of your bedroom? The dining room? The lounge? Marjani's room?"

"No -" Sarakshi paused. "The music room," she breathed. "I was up there this morning." She met Linda's eyes. "It'll just take a minute."

She swept past Linda and up the staircase. The door of the music room was half-open: Sarakshi pushed it and sped inside and -

And stopped.

There was a girl in the room. Not just a girl: a girl with her hands knotted behind Igarashi's head. One of his hands was tangled in her hair; the other, running up her leg. There was something intense and passionate and frenzied about the kiss; the sight made Sarakshi feel sick. She took a step backwards - and collided with a table.

There was a crash as the vase on the table, toppled over.

Tora and the girl broke apart.

"I had no idea -" _You're not the one who should be embarrassed; he is._ Sarakshi gathered her scattered wits. "I left my books here. I need to get them."

"I see." He straightened up. There were shadows under his eyes and his lips were bruised; he looked dishevelled and beyond handsome and altogether different. "Take them." There was a pause in which neither of them moved. "I haven't gotten all the time in the world, Ishin." His voice was a cold drawl. "Take your books and leave."

Sarakshi reached the grand piano and gathered her books. Her eyes met his as she straightened up, and there was something in them - intense - full of desire - _different_ - that caused her eyes to widen.

Eyes flickering, she walked past him.

"Yuki's been looking for you," she said quietly.

And shut the door with the softest of _clicks_.

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_Chapter title credit: Once again, _the song Broken Inside_ by Broken Iris.  
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_Everyone who read/ reviewed/ favourited/ subscribed... _Thank youu. _I write this list of names at the end of each chapter. And I just wanted to say that I do that because I'm super thankful to _every_ single who leaves feedback - positive or otherwise - because it helps me write AND improve. So thanks, guys. Tora fan, Twillk, Ally, Ella, gamma-rae-star, NerdPop, Animefangirl95, yuukuzuri, InvictusAsphalt, Bebe17, ulqui x, ChuGaEun, an chan ran, choco-chan143, fateMoon, Wildfly, arynx99, echizenochi, Nami Mon'Ami, Ch3nya, eight, Natsu-chan, Ume Hitachiin (Nooo. Don't cry! *updates*), sweetykitty and Nusuki Kisuuke._

_Aishwarya. Haha. I'll let them all run wild in my head without any interference, henceforth. XD_

_ultimate end Xx. Marjani didn't kiss/ do anything with Linda after that first time in Chapter 17. Other than talk, I mean. XD And noo. I don't think it's too much. I know I tend to get attached to fictional characters as if they were real people, too. ^_^_

_AnonymousJinx209. Yes. Well, his hair seems to be a darker shade in the manga. But he's blonde in the anime. _

_Reviews = virtual cupcakes. Or cookies. Or pizza._

_'Cause pizza is yum. *nods*  
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	21. is quickly Fading

**c h a p t e r t w e n t y o n e  
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**is quickly FADING.  
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"You called?"

Genkei Igarashi looked up at the sound of the smooth voice he knew so well, to find Tora leaning against the door. Setting down his cellphone, the older man motioned to the seat in front of him.

"Sit down."

"I don't believe I will." Tora did not budge. "What do you want, father?"

Genkei's eyes narrowed. "I have no time to deal with your insolence."

"And I." Tora gave him an amiable smile. "Have no time to deal with your need to make Marjani's life a living hellhole."

"You will not speak that way to me." Genkei slammed a fist on to the table. "Whether you agree with me or not has nothing to do with your attendance at the Goodwill Dance - as the Igarashi heir, your presence is required."

"Not arm-in-arm with Kurumi," Tora said coldly.

"Kurumi is like a daughter to me -"

"She should be. She's engaged to your _other_ son, after all."

Genkei's eyes flashed. "You _will_ do what I say."

It would not be a good idea to press Genkei's buttons further. Tora knew that. That didn't mean he couldn't give him a piece of the truth to handle. "Kurumi won't agree to come."

"She came to the dance. She enjoyed being escorted by you."

"Your utter lack of perception amuses me, at times." Tora's words were chosen to offend. "She allowed herself to be escorted by me because she wanted Marjani to notice her."

"He doesn't seem to have noticed her, yet." Genkei's eyes were cold. "He will, however, when she breaks off her engagement with him because of you."

"She won't attend." Tora straightened up. "Not this time."

Genkei's eyes narrowed. Then he lifted his cellphone and punched in Kurumi's number. "Good afternoon... Yes. Fine. She's fine... Mina and I are looking forward to seeing you at the Goodwill Dance... Tora is, too... No? Why? I see... Yes.. Take care." He disconnected the call. And met Tora's smirk across his desk. "What have you said to her?" He demanded.

There was no need to tell Genkei that Marjani and Kurumi had decided to dissolve their engagement on agreeable terms: knowing that the plan he had been working on to agitate Marjani had been for nothing would only serve to infuriate the man. Tora gave a broad-shouldered shrug. "I know her."

"And you expect me to believe that?" Genkei's voice was furious. "I taught you that cool composure. I taught you to mask your feelings. _I can see right through it_."

"I hope you're not expecting me to put up a defense." Tora's voice was cool. "Because I don't... particularly feel like it."

Genkei's eyes narrowed. "Fine." His voice was almost a hiss. "If that's the way you want it, you _will_ turn up with a date the charity organizations love as much as they love Kurumi."

"Yuki," Tora said lazily.

Genkei's eyes flashed. "She's leaving for London."

"And she won't, if I ask her not to."

"_Do you want to get into a fight with her father?_"

"I get into one with mine every day. Getting into one with hers shouldn't be a problem."

Genkei slammed a fist into a table. "You will not ruin my business relations for the sake of your childish whims."

Tora hadn't been going to. Toying with his father was too much fun, however. "Amane-san, then," he said lazily.

"_She's your mother's age!_" Genkei roared.

"If you want someone charities love, my options are obviously limited," Tora smirked.

"Enough." Genkei's voice was sheer ice. "You like to think you're infallible. You aren't." He rose to his feet. "You _will_ turn up, and you _will_ turn up with a date the press will love. If you don't." He swept past Tora. When he spoke again, his voice was as cold as it was serious, and Tora knew he meant every word. "You no longer overlook any part of the Igarashi business for the next two years."

-;-

She... could not muster up the courage.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Sarakshi eyed the crowd surrounding the noticeboard mounted on the wall in front of her. Most days, the noticeboard was visible from a mile off. Not today, though.

Not when it had exam results pinned to it.

"Twentieth." Linda sailed past a gaggle of nervous-looking boys to reach Sarakshi. "I don't think my parents will have anything to complain about." She whipped out a hand-mirror and a tube of lipstick. "Reckon this colour's gonna look good with my skin-tone?"

"You saw my result." Sarakshi took a deep breath and met her eyes. "What is it?"

"I didn't." Linda grin's was devilish. "I checked Sora's for her, though. I should go find her. I wonder which of the broom closets she's hiding in, this time."

Sarakshi stared at her, open-mouthed. "You checked Sora's result but you didn't check mine? How is _that_ fair?"

"I didn't say it was." Linda dropped the lipstick into her bag. "Gotta find Sora. See ya."

"I'm beginning to think I might have rotten taste in friends, after all," Sarakshi muttered. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed and squeezed her way through the crowd and in front of the noticeboard. _Here it goes._

She looked up.

Fifth.. fourth... third...

_Sarakshi Ishin_.

Third. Third. _Third._ Sarakshi forced her expression into a calm smile (as opposed to the insane grin of joy she wanted to wear) and squeezed herself a path out of the crowd. Then she walked past the corridor with light, even steps.

The moment she turned the corner, she broke into a run.

And staggered to a stop when she realized there was a figure in the doorway up ahead, one leg sprawled out in front of him to ensure people either came to a halt before him or tripped.

"What -" She drew herself to her full height. "What is wrong with you? I could have tripped!"

"I'm sure that would have been hilarious." Tora's drawl and smirk made his presence more than apparent. "Congratulations."

Congratulations? _He must have checked the noticeboard_. Her eyebrow rose. "I thought you never checked your results."

"I don't." He straightened up in one very graceful and very predator-like movement. "I checked yours."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

"How intelligent of you to figure out I want something from you." Hands placed behind his head, he looked right past her. "As it happens, I _do_ want something from you."

"And as it happens, I'm in no mood to talk to you." She was _not_ going to let him ruin her rush of euphoria. "Now, get out of my path before I make you."

He did not move a muscle.

"Igarashi -"

"Have you heard of the Sakura Goodwill Dance?"

The unexpected question caught her off guard. "It takes place around this time, every year." Her eyes narrowed. "Your family funds it."

"Very good." He straightened up. "Seven o' clock, Tuesday. Wear something respectable. I'll pick you up." He turned around and stepped through the door.

Sarakshi's jaw dropped open. "Wait a second." She pushed open the door that had half swung shut and grabbed the back of his shirt. "You think I'm going to go _out_ with you because you ask me to?"

"I think you're going to go out with me because I've _told_ you to. Now, if you could take your hand off my shirt. It's considerably more expensive than yours."

Sarakshi's eyes widened. "There's a limit to being a jerk."

"There isn't. I wrote the book on being a jerk. Your hand, Ishin."

"I don't know what you're up to, Igarashi, but I'm not going to _any_ goodwill dance with you."

"I understand it must be hard for you to keep your hands off me but really, Ishin, you should show more self-control."

She let go of him, as if burned; Tora smirked.

"_Git_."

"You seem to have learned a new word, besides jerk." He turned around and smiled at her. It was not a nice smile. "How entertaining."

"I'm done over here." Sarakshi swept past him.

His hand caught hers. "Oh no, you aren't." He pulled her against his chest and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Not until I say so," he breathed.

"Let go -" Sarakshi kicked him hard. "Of me."

His grip did not loosen. "You _will_ listen to me."

"I believe the correct phrase is, 'You're deluded,' but I could be mistaken. You might have passed that stage, already."

"You know why you're going to turn up at that dance?" His fingers brushed hair off her neck. "Because if you don't, Linda Williams's parents might just come to know she's dating a certain Marjani Suoh. You know something interesting about the Williams? They don't want their daughter hanging out with suspicious-looking older guys. And you know something interesting about Marjani Suoh? He has the kind of past that's going to ruin his present life if anyone digs into it and finds out the truth. Of course -" His eyes dipped to meet hers. "I _might_ be deluded."

"Marjani can take care of himself." Sarakshi met his gaze, her own cold.

"I wonder if Mr. Suoh would still want to be associated with him if he's a threat to the man's reputation," Tora mused. "You know the part where Mr. Suoh has _no_ idea who Marjani's real father is. Not to mention -" He smiled - "The part where, contrary to what everyone has been told, Marjani isn't adopted but Mrs. Suoh's actual son. It would be quite the scandal. Not that you have anything to be concerned about. Like you said, Marjani _can_ take care of himself. Even if the press is having a field day at the Suohs' expense."

"You're vile." Sarakshi could hear the incredulity in her voice. "You're _vile_."

"And you." Tora ran a lazy forefinger down the curve of her neck. "Will show up in something respectable."

"You're mistaken if you think you can get to me through him," Sarakshi said coldly. Igarashi would not do that to Marjani; if there was one thing she knew beyond any doubt, it was that. There was something between those two she would never be able to understand, but whatever it was, it was strong enough to ensure that no matter who Igarashi manipulated, no matter who Igarashi hurt, he would never attempt to do something that could cause permanent damage to Marjani. She looked down at the arm wrapped around her waist. ""I understand it must be hard for you to keep your hands off me but really, Igarashi, you should show more self-control."

His eyes widened at the words she had thrown back at him. Then he grinned. He wouldn't have thought it was possible but she had... gotten tougher. "You think I wouldn't." He tipped her chin up. "Is that it? You're naive enough to think I have enough good in me to not ruin what little peace Marjani has in his life?"

"No. I think -" She gave him a sweet smile. "That you realize you couldn't get under Marjani's skin, if you wanted to."

"You're a terrible liar, Ishin."

Her eyes flashed. "And you are terrible all around. Now, will you let go of me or will you wait for me to let the entire school know you're harassing an honour student?"

He... needed time. "You know? I don't believe I'll choose either of those options." He let go of her: surprised, she took a few quick steps backwards. Right where he had wanted her to. His hand closed around her wrist, he kicked open the door of the broom closet behind her and pushed her inside. The door swung shut behind them as he locked her into place. "Because this." He grinned down at her. "Is so much better."

"Wow. Broom closet. That's original." Sarakshi glared up at him as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. "You're an idiot, Igarashi. What do you think will happen now, if I scream?"

"We'll be found out," he said lazily. "I'll be suspended. And you." His eyes met hers. "Will be expelled once I'm done with my part of the story." Her eyes widened. Tora tipped her chin up and smirked. "Doesn't seem like it's in your best interest to scream, does it now?"

"You think this is some sort of joke?" Her throat was drier than she had thought it was possible for it to be. "That if you threaten me with expulsion, I'm going to attend your stupid dance?" She set her chin. "I'm not, Igarashi. So you can go ahead and get me into trouble. Because I _will_ fight it out to the -"

"You have an overactive imagination," he cut across her. "I don't intend to get either of us into trouble." When her eyes narrowed, he smiled. "I do, however, intend to get Marjani into it." He raised his cellphone and punched in a number. "Sandra-san. How nice to talk to you again." His eyes met hers and then, his smile amiable, he switched on the speakerphone so that she could hear the conversation.

"Tora." The woman on the other end of the line had enough of an accent to make her speech somewhat hard to understand. "Is everything alright? Is this about Linda?"

It was Linda's mother, Sarakshi realized._ He wouldn't. He wouldn't dare tell her about Marjani._ But the conviction she had felt minutes ago was gone. She forced herself to keep a poker face -

"It's nothing serious. I just thought you should know." Tora's eyes flickered towards her. There was panic in her eyes. If she'd left earlier, he would never have been able to pull this off. Now that he had the time he needed, however - she couldn't leave the closet until he allowed her to - this was going to be simple. "Linda has been seeing -" He met her eyes.

"Seeing?" There was sudden warning in Sandra's tone. "Tora, is something wrong?"

Sarakshi placed her hand on the speaker.

"I'll go." She could feel the cold rage in her voice.

"Oh no. You must have misheard me." Tora removed his cellphone from her reach. "I was just asking you to let Linda know there will be a rehearsal tomorrow. I would myself, but I can't reach her on her cellphone. She must have switched it off temporarily."

"I see." Sandra sounded a tad relieved. "Of course. If that's all then."

The woman said something else. Tora responded. Sarakshi was no longer paying attention. She heard the click of a button being pressed. Then he had slipped the cellphone into a pocket

"What was it that you were saying earlier?" His voice was a drawl. "I'm mistaken if I think I can get to you through him?"

"Step aside." Sarakshi could feel her voice shaking with anger. "Now."

"Emotional thing like you?" He did not so much as budge. "Easier to manipulate than an idiot who can't string two words together. Because you care, Ishin. You care so much about the people you love, you can't bear the thought of them getting hurt. You're foolish enough to -"

She slapped him.

He stood there, his eyes wide, his expression frozen, his chest rising and falling with a stunned - in disbelief - sort of quickness.

"I was happy, today." There were tears in her eyes, he realized. "You stole that from me. Like you steal every thing I ever have to be happy about. I might be foolish but at least I'm human. You're not. You will _never_ be. Get out of my path, Igarashi. _Now_."

He did. He stepped aside without a word.

She did not look at him as she stepped out of the closet and slammed the door behind her.

-;-

The dance would begin in ten minutes. Ten minutes.

Back and the sole of a foot rested against the wall in the shadows of the parking, Tora glanced at his watch.

Nine.

Gleaming headlights passed around the corner.

Eight.

The squeal of tyres meeting hard ground.

Seven.

"Ryotaro! How many times have I told you not to drive so damn fast!"

"Lighten up, darling. "

Six.

There was the soft - almost imperceptible - sound of a two-wheeler coming to a halt and he lifted his gaze off his watch.

She lifted her helmet off her head, tucked it under an arm, and jumped off her bike. One hand pushed pack red bangs as she locked the helmet into place on the handlebar. He could see the patterns that ran up the back of her top. He looked down at the cellphone in his hand.

Disconnected the call and straightened up.

"Well, well, well." His voice was smooth as he emerged from the shadows. "What a pleasant surprise."

Sarakshi turned around to meet his gaze. "As it happens, I don't have any respectable clothing," she said coldly. What had she thought his reaction on seeing her would be? Different? Troubled? "I hope it isn't too much of a disappointment."

Had he expected her to show up? Was he relieved that she had turned up? Tora could not have answered the first question with a convincing yes, or the last with a convincing no. He hadn't. He was. There was a coldness in her voice and eyes that had almost never been there before. "No." His answer was brief and clipped and no warmer than hers, as he took a step out of the parking.

"I see." Voice cold, she followed.

The moment of shock that had crystallized between them the last time the two of them had come to face-to-face - hers at what she had done; his at the tears in her eyes - seemed to stretch between them like an invisible, unfamiliar barrier. She was no longer sure of his reactions; he was no longer sure of hers. Which was more than just some minor problem, Tora thought. What would she do? Give him the cold shoulder all evening? Refuse to talk to anyone? Be as stiff and cold to the guests as she was being to him?

"You must be Sarakshi." Mina Igarashi sailed past a couple of people to approach the two of them. Her smile was radiant. "Tora's told me all about you."

"I'm sure he hasn't. He's un-adorable like that."

She grinned up at his mother, a grin that reached her eyes, and he realized how mistaken he had been.

She wouldn't. She wouldn't give him the cold shoulder, she wouldn't refuse to talk to the people he was associated with, and she wouldn't be stiff towards the guests. Not because she liked him. But because she realized it was important - to him. To his family. To the dance. - to pretend everything was alright. She would never willingly hurt anyone, irrespective of whether the person had hurt her or not.

She was an idiot.

Mina's eyes widened in surprise: it could not have been clearer his mother had not expected the response. Then she burst out into clear laughter.

"My God, aren't you honest." She grinned back at Sarakshi. "I do love your top. I used to dress like that, when I was in my tweens. Oh look, there comes Maki-san. Have fun, alright?" She sailed past him and Sarakshi, leaving silence in her wake.

"Wine?" Tora stopped a waiter sporting a choice of drinks.

"I'm sixteen." Sarakshi looked up at him. He wondered whether the mixture of calm and dryness in her voice was real. Whether it was just another part of the show she would put on because she was too gentle and too - what was the word? Ah, yes - _good_ to ruin something for him, even when she had ample chance.

"Orange juice?" He asked drily.

"Not six," she added.

"But of course." There was something cool - even cold - about his response. He did not look at her as he dismissed the waiter with a curt wave of his hand. "Have you had dinner?"

Sarakshi blinked. "What?"

"It's a simple enough question, Ishin. Have you had dinner?"

She frowned. "No."

"Come with me."

"Excuse me?"

"And here I thought you were intelligent enough to understand simple Japanese sentences. I said -" His eyes met hers. "Come with me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Where?"

But of course. "How cute." His gaze dipped to meet hers in a manner that was as mocking as it was cold. "You don't trust me."

"You and the truth." She smiled sweetly. "Now that's a combination I've never heard of before."

He could have said he wouldn't attempt anything he ought not to. He could have said he would keep his distance. He could have, but he was who he was. So he held out a hand instead, aware that if she wished to keep up the facade she had decided to keep up, she would have to take it. "Yes." He smiled, an oh-so-amiable smile. "I do have a creative streak."

"I hate you." Voice a whisper, she placed her hand in his.

"You shouldn't waste so much time thinking about me, should you now?"

His hand closed around hers with an almost savage sense of satisfaction to lead her out of the hall and down a series of corridors. The scent of aromas mixing and matching and contradicting each other met her as he slowed down. She saw a wide arch; through it what looked like a gleaming counter. He walked through it without a word or invitation to her and she hovered back with a frown and an air of uncertainty that made it clear she could not decide whether she felt unsure or suspicious.

He returned minutes later. There was a wrapped-up panini in his hand.

"Eat."

Sarakshi looked down at the white napkin that held the panini. "It's.. a sandwich."

"Yes, Ishin. You are highly intelligent."

The sarcasm in his voice made her eyebrow rise. "I'm sure you wouldn't find it off if someone brought you a sandwich out of the blue, Igarashi, but normal people -"

"I said _eat."_

Her eyes narrowed. "No."

He came to a halt and turned around. "You can either eat that sandwich or hand it back for me to bin."

Her eyes widened. "You can't bin food. There are people who don't get anything to eat -"

"And I." He met her gaze, his voice smooth. "Am not one of them."

Her eyes widened. "You're _evil_."

"I believe we established that a long time ago. Now, if you'll return that sandwich."

Their eyes met. His were cold; hers, no less so. For several moments, she did not break the gaze. Then she did. "You have no morals whatsoever," she said as she raised the sandwich to her mouth.

"Does it disturb you that I'm not disturbed by that?" His smirk was cold.

She ignored him. For a few minutes the two of them walked in silence; his face blank, hers displeased. He could hear her munching on the Panini; at first grudgingly, then with a puzzled frown. Her eyes were curious. The expression brought an almost soft light to her face. He had the urge to pull her to him and bite her lower lip -

"Who made this?"

He forced the train of thoughts down. "The sandwich?" He drawled.

"I can't identify the ingredients." She folded the napkin and looked up at him with curious blue eyes. "There was something in there I haven't tasted before."

"Which would be every expensive ingredient under the sun, I presume."

She glared at him. Glared at him at the exact precise moment she realized (her attention had been too absorbed by the sandwich, before that) that it had grown... cold. Eyes round as saucers, Sarakshi looked around and realized she didn't recognize her surroundings. "What the hell are you up to -"

"For once? Be quiet."

"You -" She broke off as she realized he had come to a halt in front of a door. Ignoring her, Tora stepped forward to unlock it. It swung open to reveal what was beyond it.

Her eyes widened.

It was huge; the space inside it. Cold and gigantic and done in gorgeous birch-wood. Soft yellowish lighting illuminated elegant tables, stone arches, stained glass windows, and row upon row of gleaming bottles.

It was a wine-cellar, and a gorgeous one at that.

How could someone go from fierce to enthralled in so short a time and with such total _transparency_? Tora forced his face into a smooth expression as he stepped inside and pulled up a chair. "Have a seat."

Her gaze met his. "Is this yours?"

He arched an eyebrow. "No, it's Marjani's."

"I should have known. It _is_ classy."

"It's Mina's."

The sudden statement made Sarakshi look up. "Your mother's?" She asked, voice softer than before.

His nod threw hair into his eyes. "She designed it."

There was something about how he had said those words - _It's Mina's_ - that told her the wine cellar was special. That it meant something to him. That it was..._ a private place_, she realized. Something not many people had been - or would ever be - allowed to see. She looked up but his fingers were on the back of the chair and his gaze was not on her. Eyes flickering, Sarakshi stepped inside.

"It's beautiful," she said, voice soft. Then she paused. "And private."

"You talk too much." He motioned to the chair, an almost curt motion. She promptly sat on top of the table, legs dangling off the side, and his mouth curved into a grin. Walking up to a shelf, he ran his gaze over it. Then he picked out a bottle and a corkscrew; uncorking the former, he returned to the table and, the action graceful, poured the wine into a clear glass. He handed the half-full glass to her. "Drink."

Her eyes widened. "It's wine."

"You're sixteen, not six."

The reminder made her eyes narrow. "I'm underage."

"You run a house."

The glass was cool between the curve of her palm. Sarakshi looked down at the light that played into it. What was he attempting to do? The answer hit her in a flash of realization that left her feeling like a fool. "You're trying to get me drunk."

There was a sullen sort of conviction in her voice. The sulkiness in her tone made him have to resist the urge to grin. "Ishin." The way he said her name had to be some kind of criminal offense: it was too smooth. Too silken. Too.. intimate. "If I wanted you drunk, I'm sure even you realize I could have come up with a less-obvious plan."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't trust you."

"Drink the wine."

"Wines have high alcohol content."

_And this one doesn't._ "If you were attempting to show that you have some knowledge of alcoholic beverages, you just failed spectacularly. Drink the wine."

Did she trust him? No, she didn't. Was she curious? Sarakshi supposed she was. She looked down at the half-filled wineglass. How dangerous could it be? No. That wasn't the question. How far would he go to take advantage of her? _Not far enough to get me drunk_. Because he would never - and she knew that without a shred of doubt - take advantage of her when she could not fight back.

Frowning, she took a sip.

"Well?"

Sarakshi looked up. "What?" She asked crossly.

"How does it taste?"

She considered the question. "Woodsy." Then - "Is it supposed to smell like wood, too?" She looked up and realized he was grinning. "What?"

"Nothing."

Sarakshi eyed the wine. "You're making me suspicious."

"Has it ever occurred to you that you might be turning into one of those cynical, mistrustful, world-hating old ladies who like to err on the side of caution?"

"So that's why you can't leave me alone for more than two minutes." She gave him a sweet smile. "I always knew that was your type."

"I know you have fantasies, Ishin, but you don't have to make them _that_ apparent."

She choked on the last drop of the beverage. Tora smirked; the action caused her eyes to narrow. "Git," she muttered.

He closed the distance between them in one swift movement. His shadow dwarfed her; he could tell she was aware of the fact because her grip around the wineglass tightened. "Did you say something?" He asked, his voice a breath.

"I said." Sarakshi set down the wineglass with an audible _clink_ and met his gaze, her own cool. "You're right. I do have fantasies. You know, the kind where you happen to have a personality. Sound out-of-the-world, don't they?"

There was enough sarcasm in her voice to drown the dead sea. Wild, little thing, wasn't she. Grinning, Tora leaned down. "You liked it, didn't you?" He murmured against her ear.

Sarakshi blinked. "You with a personality?"

His lips tugged up into a smile she didn't see. "The wine."

Oh. "No." Sarakshi paused. Fine. Perhaps a little. But he didn't need to know that. "I understand your Evil Overlord activities must be tiring, Igarashi, but no. You still aren't allowed to fall asleep on my shoulder."

"You're as terrible at deflection as you are at lying," he breathed against her neck, without raising his head.

What had she expected? That he would believe her? That he would let her steer the conversation into another direction? Sarakshi frowned. "It tasted..." Sweet? No. Not sweet. Wooden and newish and refreshing. The kind of drink that was... her. It wasn't fair that he could know her well enough to predict what kind of wine she would enjoy. "It tasted like wood. Not old wood, though. Newish wood."

There was a moment of total silence.

"Well, it did," Sarakshi insisted, aware she sounded defensive. She felt him smile against her shoulder; the movement sent a shiver down her spine. Her cheeks flamed. "And what do you think you're doing?" She rammed her elbow into his chest. Hard.

Ouch. Tora took a swift step backwards and caught both of her hands before she could attempt to hit him again. "There's no need to get so flustered," he smirked. "I'm sure it tasted like - what was the phrase? Ah, yes - _newish_ wood."

The corners of her lips twitched. "You asked."

His grip on her hands loosened. "Now seems like a good time to get you drunk, without you realizing that was the devilish master-plan all along."

She grinned and jumped off the table. "Come on. Let's get back."

"Scared I meant what I said?"

Sarakshi rolled her eyes as she swept past him. The taste of the wine was still strong in her mouth; it felt like a vivacious mixture of wood and mountains and fresh air. Her hand ran itself along a row of bottles as she passed them; the blend of bottle-green glass on dark wood looked as beautiful now as it had when she had stepped into the cellar. There was an ikebana arrangement - an artificial pond the size of a cooking pan set with gorgeous white flowers and wide green leaves - next to the door; it made her stop in her tracks. How could she have missed it before?

"Did your mother do this?" She asked.

It would not have taken a genius to gauge the wonder in her eyes. How could anyone be so damn_ transparent_? He thought of the half-tears curled under her lashes and for one moment, he was still. Then he did the one thing he knew he shouldn't - the one thing he knew he wouldn't have, had he been holding on to even an iota of rational thinking at the moment - and walked up to the cabinet next to her. He pulled open a drawer and flicked the card he had taken out, towards her. She caught it, reflexively.

"What -"

"It's Mina's card." His voice was almost curt. "I doubt she'd mind if you contact her."

Her eyes widened. Then she nodded and bent down to touch one of the white roses that rose out of the artificial pond.

"They're beautiful."

"You're stalling," he drawled. "Don't tell me you want to get drunk when you're all alone with me, after all."

Her eyebrows rose. "I know you have fantasies, Igarashi, but there's no need to make them _that_ apparent."

He unlocked the cellar door. "Out."

"Ever the gentleman, aren't you?" She said sweetly, as she swept past him.

"I knew it wouldn't be long before you came to see that." Tora gave her an oh-so-amiable smile as he stepped out after her.

Sarakshi had to grin. The corridor widened as the two of them walked, its mouth opening into a larger hall. She had been too distracted to notice said hall - or any component of the path the two of them were retracing - on her way to the cellar. She noticed it now - the stern stone arches, the exotic murals, the delicate flower arrangements. And the roses. Gorgeous white roses that unfurled in breathtaking milk-white petals under the soft shadows of the lighting. Sarakshi bent to touch a petal. "Igarashi..."

"Ishin," he said lazily.

She looked up. There _had_ to be a legal injunction against that smooth, rich, predator-like manner of saying someone's name. "Thanks." She paused. "For the wine."

He froze. Then his expression smoothed and his eyebrow rose a good half-inch. "How much did you have to drink when I wasn't looking?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you implying I'm not a nice person, in general?"

"I'm implying you're not a nice person, when you're around me," Tora said drily.

"Reckon that could have something to do with how_ gentlemanly_ you are?"

"Ah. I always knew it turned you on."

She grinned. "I've never seen white roses this beautiful before." She knelt down in front of a potted arrangement that wove white blossoms through an intricate knot of red-and-yellow flowers. "Where does she get the -"

"Well, well, well. I was wondering where you might have gone off to."

Sarakshi knew who it was before her gaze snapped up: Genkei Igarashi's voice was too distinct to not be recognizable. Her hand - which had been inspecting the flowers - lowered itself as Genkei took a step forward.

"Father." Tora's voice had taken on a coldness that made her eyes widen. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I have to commend you on your clever thinking." Genkei's smile was not nice. "Convincing her to attend. Solve all your problems nicely, didn't it?"

_Convincing her to attend. _What did he mean? Sarakshi rose to her feet. "I don't appreciate you talking about me as if I'm not here, Mr. Igarashi." Her voice was cool. "I'm sure you don't want me to address you through your son; I expect the same courtesy."

"Ah." Genkei's smiled the condescending smile he seemed to have perfected over the years. His eyes met Tora's cold ones. "She doesn't know, does she?"

_You've known she doesn't all along, you miserable, old pretender_. "If you'll excuse us." Tora held out a hand to Sarakshi. "Shall we leave?"

"Of course, the press would love the story." Genkei pressed on.

"I said." Tora's voice was like ice. "If you'll excuse us."

"Igarashi heir escorts poor girl." Genkei's voice was ruthless. "Tells them all we're open-minded people who don't believe in prejudice, doesn't it? Did you know?" He turned to Sarakshi. "He needed a date charities would love. The kind of charities that support your kind."

Charities? Her kind? It was a moment before Sarakshi realized what Genkei meant. Her eyes widened in a flash of shock as the message sank into her._ He needed a date charities would love. The kind of charities that support your kind._ He'd been using her. Not manipulating her. Using her. Like she was some sort of.. _Some sort of cheap commodity he could flaunt at will, to prove he wasn't too narrow-minded to take an interest in people who didn't belong to the same class as he did._ She wasn't sure what made her more furious - the fact that he had thought he could use her status as a convenience, or the fact that he would have had her face plastered all over magazines, without her knowledge or permission, to attract some easy fame.

Her gaze met Tora's. "Is this true?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Is what true?"

Her eyes narrowed. When she spoke, her voice was cold and steel-like and fierce. "I thought you had more principles." There was a mixture of disbelief and hurt and plain cold anger in her eyes and it seemed to grow larger with each fraction of a second. "I thought you were better than that."

"Oh my." Genkei pulled on a surprised face that even a two year old could have told was fake. "I had no idea he hadn't told you your pictures would be in half a dozen magazines, tomorrow." He met Tora's stone-cold expression. "Igarashi heir shows interest in part-time maid," he said smoothly. "Igarashi heir helps out poor working girl -"

She'd had enough. She'd had enough of Genkei Igarashi and his son. "Move out of my way," Sarakshi said coldly.

"I do apologize on my son's behalf. It was wrong of him not to let you know -"

"I said." Sarakshi get Genkei's gaze, her own cold. "Move out of my way. _Now_."

Genkei would have taken offense at her tone, if he hadn't been as pleased as he was at his own triumph. He stepped aside. "Of course," he said, his voice mock-soothing.

She did not rise to the bait his tone presented; she swept past both of them with her chin high and her eyes fixed on the path ahead. Tora watched her leave in a whirl of blue top and jeans. He was aware he felt murderous - beyond murderous - and that it took each ounce of control he had ever had not to lunge at Genkei and throttle the man's throat. The moment she had whipped out of sight, his gaze met Genkei.

"You bastard," he said, his voice very, very calm.

Genkei's eyes flashed. "You aren't infallible. I'd let that be a lesson, if I were you."

"I hear Kurumi turned down the offer to come to the ball you told her you and mother would love to see her at. I'd let that be a lesson, if I were you."

Genkei's eyes narrowed. "You don't." His voice was cold. "Want to pick a row with me."

"No, I don't." Voice ice-cold, Tora swept past him. "I have better standards than that."

-;-

It was cold in the garden. Sarakshi felt numb to the weather - surreal almost - as she followed the stone path that went past the pond and led to the garden maze. If she had been in a better mood, she would have stepped into it. Explored it. She was not in a better mood, however.

Sinking into one of the benches that stood outside the maze, she looked down at her hands and swallowed.

She'd thought it was real. That the wine - the business card - the laughter - had been spontaneous. Who he was. Not part of an act. But the hurt and indignation went beyond that to some other corner of her mind she didn't even want to think of. She'd thought he... saw her as an equal. That he wasn't like his father. Not someone who judged people for how much cash they'd hoarded, and not what they were capable of.

That he saw her as competent.

_I had no idea he hadn't told you your pictures would be in half a dozen magazines, tomorrow. Igarashi heir shows interest in part-time maid. Igarashi heir helps out poor working girl._

It wasn't his fault: it was hers. She wasn't naive - she was an idiot.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there. She could feel the night growing darker and quieter. The garden stretched out ahead in rolls of greens and blues and reds and somewhere in the distance, there was music. She sat there on the bench, her hands numb with the cold, until the wind picked up and droplets began to patter down to the ground. It was cold and raining and -

"Ishin."

She could feel - not see - his shadow engulfing her. What did he think? That she would talk to him? Of course he did: she had been enough of a fool all along, after all.

She didn't look up at him; her eyes were narrowed and fixed on some spot well past him. Had he expected that? What _had_ he expected? Tora couldn't have said. He was aware that the fact that she might choose to ignore rather than hate him - and it would be so like her, he realized - was like a punch to his stomach. He was also aware that he was in no mood to confront the fact that the prospect of her refusing to talk to him, dented his inward calm.

He knelt down in front of her and set something in her lap with the softest of touches. The sudden weight took Sarakshi by surprise. Her eyes flickered to her lap... and widened. It was a bouquet of white roses. Not just white roses: the white roses she had seen in the part of the house Mina had decorated. Dozens of them, milk-white and stunning, wrapped in unfurling green leaves that sprouted from their stems in sharp contrast. Their petals were fresh - in the semi-darkness, she could see the dewdrops that clung to them.

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to do?" She asked coldly.

The fact that she had spoken - broken the silence - left him relieved. Relieved and irked at himself for being relieved. He rose to his feet. "My father." His voice was smooth. "Has a theory."

"That you have no personality?"

The shadow of a grim grin crossed his face. "That I'm not infallible."

"You have five seconds to leave me in peace. If you don't, I leave. Wouldn't want those magazines to run stories -" There was an ironic twist to her lips and tone - "about how your date walked out on you instead, would you?"

"I don't intend to leave until I've said what I wanted to say," Tora said. "You're not naive enough not to have known that, though. I assume the real reason you're still sitting there is because you can't convince yourself to leave."

That wasn't what he had meant to say; he was too proud to admit that to himself - let alone her - however. She rose to her feet. There was something about the action - calm. Too calm to be _her_ - that told her that if she walked out now, she would never talk to him again of her own free will. His hand caught her arm. She whirled around and there was that singular moment in which he saw the look in her eyes - the myriad of looks in them; hurt and anger and pure cold rage - and she knew he'd seen it.

"You have no redeeming qualities." Her voice was as low as it was cold. She swallowed the lump in her throat and met his gaze. "You think every person you come across is just another piece on your damned mental chessboard. You take people's feelings and make a mockery out of them, every chance you get. You take _my_ feelings and make a mockery out of them, every time you get. If even one magazine so much as mentions me tomorrow, Igarashi, so help me I will -"

He pulled her to him. She came against his chest and his arm rose - almost without his realizing it - to wrap itself around her waist. "Shut up," he said.

"Let go of -"

"No." His fingers brushed her hair off her neck. "No magazine is going to mention you. Which said, I don't intend to let go of you until I've said what I want to. Be still. I said -" His voice was cool. "Be still."

He might as well have said that to a wall. She attempted to shove him back. When that didn't work, she punched him. He could have stopped the punch if he had wanted to - he didn't. It hit him square in the eye. Hard.

Harder than she would have wanted to, had she known the punch was actually going to hit its mark.

He saw her eyes widen in shock as she took a stunned step back. "I didn't -" Her breath caught in her throat as his cheekbone began to turn a shade that was anything but natural.

"What are you made of, metal?" Tora asked drily. He'd expected the punch to hurt. He hadn't expected it to hurt _this_ much. Perhaps it was a good thing he had been able to dodge or stop most of her previous attacks.

"I didn't think it would -" Her voice was panicked. He had expected that much: she was too much of a pacifist to actually want to physically injure someone who had never attempted to do the same to her. He had her where he wanted her in three, two, one - "Five minutes," she said. "Get on with it."

"You have time limits on injuries?" He'd needed this ounce of control that allowed him to get back into his stride. To tell himself he was calm. In control. Not relieved that she would not turn around and walk off. "I had no idea you enjoyed being sadistic."

Her eyes narrowed. "Four minutes, fifty seconds. Make that forty-nine."

"Sit."

"Excuse me?"

"My time," Tora said lazily. "My call."

Comprehension dawned across her face. It was not a nice sort of comprehension. "You let me punch you. You let me punch you so that I could -"

"Do you intend to deduct the time you're wasting on unnecessary assumptions, from the time you've given me? Because if that's the case -"

The ice was too broken to go back to it. Her hand clenched in anger. "You should stop wasting the time you're left with," she finished for him. Her lips curved into a smile that was anything but sweet. "Hurt bad, does it?" She asked, motioning to his cheek.

"I always knew you had a sadistic streak in you."

"Four minutes, five seconds."

"Looks like we've come full circle - _sit_ _down_."

"So I can't punch you again?"

"So I don't feel like I'm talking to a tiny powerhouse of towering anger."

Her eyes widened. "I do not look like a tiny powerhouse of -"

"You do right now," Tora said drily. "And you're wasting my time."

She hated it. The fact that he could maneuver her emotions until he put the most intense of them - anger, shock, humiliation - on pause. That he could make her furious enough to hurl something at him one minute and exasperated and incredulous enough to _still_ hurl something at him, the next. Taking a deep breath, Sarakshi plopped down on to the bench and crossed one leg over the other. "Do go on. Now that I don't look like -" Her voice dripped with sarcasm "- a tiny powerhouse of towering anger, anymore."

Tora glanced at his wristwatch. Three minutes. He had somewhere over three minutes to say what he wanted to. Except that he wasn't sure what that was. Or perhaps he was and just didn't want to admit it to himself. "I should have told you." His voice was quiet. He dropped next to her on to the bench. His gaze traced the hedges in the distance. The entrance to the maze. The dark night sky. "That, however, would have ruined the point."

"Because, of course, my feelings for Marjani are conditional." She could feel the anger - so close to the surface - bubbling up. "If you'd told me, I would never have allowed myself to be manipulated in the face of, I don't know, _a phone call to Linda's mother._"

"That is not." Tora's voice was ice-cold. "What I meant."

"Then say what you meant. Because I don't have time to unravel your amazing, diabolical worldplay. Or should I say -" Her voice turned saccharine - "_You_ don't have time for me to unravel it."

"Very clever choice of words, I'm sure," he said drily. _Then say what you mean_. What did he mean? That that would have ruined the point. Not because he wouldn't have been able to manipulate her - he could still have done that. There was no doubt of that, in his mind - but because... _Get over it, Igarashi. It's because she wouldn't have given you a chance_.

Wasn't that just the problem.

What was he expecting? That it would be a genuine date? That she'd dance with him? Laugh on his arm? Did he want that? Perhaps he did. Perhaps he didn't. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted but whatever it was, it wasn't something he wanted to accept. She calmed him, damn it. There was something calm and content and fire-like and mischievous - all at the same time - about her that was... different. New.

He placed his hands behind his head and rested them against the back of the bench. He'd let her do the talking for him. It was cheap and it was an escape... and he was going to do it because it was far easier and far less complicated. "You're furious because you're going to be on a bunch of magazines," he drawled. "How is that something to be displeased about?"

"Don't." Her eyes narrowed. "Play dumb with me."

"I wouldn't dare." His voice was oh-so-amiable.

Her eyes flickered. "What other people feel is a joke to you, isn't it?" She rose to her feet. "You don't give a damn what someone else goes through, as long as you don't have to feel. You have everything so you think it's fun to treat people as commodities with no will, no mind, no respect of their own. If you're fine with something, it doesn't matter if the people you're using are going to be hurt or hated or -"

"Dance with me."

Her eyes rounded. He could see the surprise in them and he could see it turn into something deeper. The kind of emotion he had never been able to - and never would be able to - express. "No." She took a step back, and her voice was hoarse. "You can't ruin people's lives and then pretend you never did."

"Would it please you if I gave you an apology I didn't mean?" His voice was cold; how cold it was, shocked her. "Would that make you feel better, satisfy your vanity, ensure you you have power over me?"

"I never wan -"

"Because you do. I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be. I wouldn't be here if I could let you walk off and have no regrets about it." He held out a hand. "Dance with me."

There was something in his face she had almost never seen before. _Vulnerability_, she realized. She'd never had trouble speaking her mind and emotions - it took him more than just simple effort to even come close to doing the same. Was it because (and she couldn't have said why she was so certain of this. Just that she was.) he had been raised with the perpetual belief that your emotions were something to be kept in check? Not shown. Not made apparent. She didn't know. She couldn't have said. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she placed her hand in his. His eyes widened in surprise; he hadn't expected her to agree, she realized. Then he pulled her close. "Thank you," he whispered.

She could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against hers. She could breathe in his scent this close and it was sharp and unique and almost dizzying. Her arm wound itself around him. "You're not forgiven," she said, voice soft.

The shadow of a smile crossed his face. "I didn't ask to be."

"Did you just trick me into thinking you felt some sort of remorse?"

"No. I just tricked you into dancing with me."

Her lips curved into a smile. "You dance well."

He spun her away from himself. "I know," he smirked.

"Have you heard the quote about small minds and great conceit?"

"Have you heard the quote about jealous people and attempting to belittle those they envy?"

"There_ is_ no such quote."

Her hair was all loose scarlet waves. He felt it against his chin - soft and ablaze and somewhat damp - as he pulled her to himself. He could smell a tinge of lavender underneath the damp. He lowered his face to it. "There is, now," he smirked against it, his fingers trailing down scarlet strands.

"But of course." She rolled her eyes. Or at least attempted to. His hand cupped the back of her head as she wound her arms around his neck and the sudden pressure caused a shiver to run down her spine. His other hand closed around the curve of her waist with the kind of silken touch that left her cheeks pink and her breath ravaged and her arms tightened around his neck in a futile attempt to distract herself. "What - what will you do after you graduate?" She asked, voice uneven.

She sounded breathless. Tora ran his thumb up the curve of her waist and, when her breath hitched, ran it back down. He could imagine the pulse in the hollow of her throat - quick and jarring and panicked - and the hand cupping her hair tightened. Dipped. The hard fingers grazed soft skin, their touch fleeting as he resisted the urge to push down the straps of her top. Toss the thing off. "What will you do after you're done with your studies?" He asked, his voice calm. Too calm to be in control.

Her eyes flickered. "Does it matter -" Her breath caught as he pulled her closer and raised her face to his.

"It matters," he said, voice rough and eyes dark.

"Res -"

He spun her away from himself and pulled her back towards herself. She met his grip in a breathless whirl of clothes. "- Taurant," she completed. "Something retro. Vintage 60's."

Her voice was even again. Calm and ablaze and full of a soft kind of resolution. He wanted to, he realized. He wanted to know what made her who she was. He wanted to know her hopes and aims and dreams. Every single one of them. He could picture the kind of restaurant she would open - all of the elegance and none of the aloofness that was part of the decor he enjoyed. His hand closed around hers as he led her into a step. "With a menu you have complete control over, I suppose," he said.

"With a menu I have a good amount of control over." She leaned back and looked up at him with half a rueful smile. "You can't do everything all on your own. You need others."

"Unless, of course, you _can_ do everything all on your own," he said.

"Everyone would love to be able to do everything single-handed." She paused to look up at him. "That's not how life works, though. We can manipulate people into doing our bidding, or we can treat them as equals and ask them for help. Either way, we need them."

His gaze met hers. "Like your life simplified, don't you?" He drawled.

"If I liked my life simplified, I wouldn't be dancing with you," she pointed out.

He spun her around and caught her shoulders. "Do you love him?"

Her eyes widened. "Who?"

If he had had so much as a modicum of sense, he would have left the topic alone. Tora knew that. He didn't want to, however. He couldn't. He had to know. She smelled of rain and grass and the scent of wet fabric and lavender. His finger traced the path of raindrop down her cheekbone, leaving behind a pair of widened blue eyes in its wake. "Marjani," he said, voice rough. "Do you love him?"

She pulled back from him, not much, just a little, angling her chin to look up into his face. It was lowered to meet her gaze; she could trace the hard line of his jaw. "Yes." Her voice was soft, a breath; hair shook around her face as she nodded. "I love him."

How much? To what extent? He almost asked. _Almost_. Then the music floating outside rose before plunging into an ending and his hand closing around her waist without a word, he dipped her low. Her hair hung beneath her, a blaze in the darkness. He could see the water that trailed down her neck and he resisted the urge to lean down and brush his lips against the hollow of her throat. Taste it. He straightened up and stepped back. Let go of her.

"Thank you." She smiled at him, a gracious sort of smile. The kind of smile she'd have given anyone - even a total stranger - after a dance, he thought.

"You're welcome." Voice cool, he stepped back with perfect grace.

"Have you ever been to the centre?"

Tora's gaze followed hers to the hedges that formed the exterior of the maze that marked the garden's centre, and his left eyebrow rose. "It's my house. I grew up here."

Sarakshi flushed. "I forgot."

"Intelligent little thing, aren't you?"

Her eyes narrowed. Then she gave him a sweet smile. "Honour student," she said, voice all sugar.

"Third," he threw back at her.

"Which, of course, has nothing to do with a certain someone who refuses to leave me alone," she said drily.

"You're blaming Marjani?" Tora asked.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Then she laughed. "The nerve of you." She swept past him to the entrance of the maze, her manner mock offended. One foot placed on the path that led inside, she turned around to look at him. "Can I go in?" She asked, her voice half-curious, half-hopeful.

He would build a damn maze if it could bring that light to her eyes again. That frank expression that wasn't planned or contrived. Trace it and take it and make it his. "Considering that you can't go back in there -" Voice cool, he looked back at the house - "In the state you're in, you might as well." He walked up to her. She had thought he would stop; to her surprise, he walked right past her. "See you at the centre."

See you at the centre? Her eyebrows knitted together. "Isn't that cheating?"

He had already disappeared.

-;-

The private race-course was _private_. Which meant, Marjani thought with gritted teeth, that it was not supposed to harbour a moving vehicle other than his when he had made it clear that it wasn't supposed to. Especially a moving vehicle that was trailing him. Had been, in fact, for the past five minutes. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he pulled his bike to a sharp halt.

"Stop." His voice was cold. "Following me."

The bike that had been trailing him came to a stop several feet behind him. "I thought I was doing a good job at being quiet." There was a grin in the rider's voice.

Marjani forced his voice to sound calm. "The last thing you were attempting, was to be quiet." He swung a leg off the bike and straightened up. "Who let you in?"

"Ya shouldn't hire young men." The rider's helmet came off to reveal a sparkling cascade of blonde hair. "They _are_ so..." She leaned forward on the bike, her voice a rasp. "Gullible."

"You seduced my guards." Marjani could hear how dry his voice had gone.

It was not a question; it was a statement. Linda jumped off the bike that was the race-course's property. "I didn't seduce them. I just... made promises I don't intend to keep." She smiled, an oh-so-brilliant smile. "Nice place ya have here. I like the.." Her eyes rose from his chest to his face. "... Trees."

"I want you off my race-course -" He walked up to her, grabbed a fistful of the front of her top and pulled her to him. If she didn't listen to him when he was civilized to her, he wouldn't be civilized to her. "- In five minutes."

"Well, if ya're gonna grab my shirt and pull me all close, I'm gonna get the wrong idea, aren't I?"

His grip around her shirt tightened. He took a step towards her, his leg pinning her against the bike with effortless and ruthless ease. "I said." His voice was as cold as his grip and he saw her lips part and her eyes widen as he pressed her into the vehicle with the kind of pressure that was not applied without a ruthless show of power. "I want you off my race-course."

"No." There was a breathless sort of determination to her voice. "Ya know what they say about not getting everything ya want."

His eyebrow rose a good half-inch. "You're wasting your time." His voice wasn't curt - just cool. "I couldn't care less what you want and -" His gaze turned cold - "I couldn't care less what you wear."

"You're lying," Linda said lazily.

His eyes flickered. That... was new. It had been a long, long time since someone had had the nerve to call him a liar to his face. He leaned against his bike and studied her face - she returned the look with a gaze that was all frank interest. "You're being too optimistic," he said.

"Don't kid me, Suoh. You can't change who you are. You're a guy. And I -" She met his gaze - "Am beautiful."

"And wasting your time."

"As opposed to, I don't know, not taking what I want because I'm too honourable to?"

"You don't." His voice was soft. Soft and the kind of dangerous that made her cheeks flush and her heartbeat quicken. "Want to force me into deciding I won't tolerate you."

"Dangerous." Her lips curved into a devilish grin. "I like that."

"That's the sole thing you do like about me," Marjani said coldly. "You're a thrill-seeker. The sense of danger attracts you. Get over it, Williams. You're too naive, too inexperienced, and too young."

"_That_ is your new strategy?" Placing her hands in the pockets of her shorts, she leaned against the bike she had snagged from the race-course. "Pretend I'm shallow? Tell me there's an age-limit on desire?"

"I said neither of those things." His face was as deadpan as his voice.

"That's exactly what you said."

"You don't know a thing about me."

"You're mistaken." Her voice was like steel. She straightened up and met his gaze with one that was almost challenging. "You're miserable. You're miserable and you revel in it. You pretend you're grateful to Mr. Suoh for everything he's ever done for you and you aren't, because if you were, you wouldn't call him Mr. Suoh, you would call him father. You tell yourself you're in love with Sarakshi but you don't make a single effort to make her realize there could be something explosive and amazing and plain fantastic there, because you're messed up enough to believe you aren't good enough for her. That thing you wear around your wrist? It came off that one time we did the whole torturous, out-of-control kiss thing. And you know what?" She grabbed the hemline of her top and tossed the thing over her head. "I don't give a damn. I don't give a damn, because I still want you."

She knew. She'd known for weeks and he hadn't had a damn clue. Something like an iron hand clenched inside him. He looked up, his gaze cold, and their eyes met. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were narrowed in something that was almost anger and the air between them was thick and full of a glacial kind of heat. The kind of heat that can freeze and burn and electrocute at the same time. Shocked. Furious. Scorching.

Linda was aware she had said too much - crossed a line she ought to have steered cleared off because it was the kind of line you can't go back from - and aware she didn't regret it. She forced her gaze to rise and meet his. His eyes were like shutters - and she refused to break the gaze. "You and I, we have something," she said, softly. "An understanding."

There was a pause that might have lasted a second or a week. It was impossible to tell. His eyes were dark and devoid of emotion. Then he nodded. His jacket came off as he dropped it around her shoulders in a shrug of black leather.

"That doesn't give you the excuse to toss off your clothes," he said drily.

"Tossing off clothes? That's just leverage."

He dropped on to the ground, one leg sprawled in front of him. "What do you want to do, Williams?"

She sat down next to him and leaned her head against her bike.

"Talk," she grinned.

-;-

The maze was grand in a trimmed kind of manner that made one curious. Curious to know what came next. Rain seeped into its hedged walls and pooled within pools of darkness that the overhanging lights could not blot out. Sarakshi had lost herself in the tangle of hedges and rosebushes a gigantic number of times in the past fifteen minutes but she could not have minded less. The sight and scent - wet mud and cool grass - calmed her.

Leaves blew in the wind; she passed them as she turned a corner, hair flying out behind her in a red streak. There was a burning white light in the distance and it was surrounded by a gaggle of smaller lights. It took her a few moments to realize what she was nearing was a tall lamp. The lights surrounding it?

_Fireflies_.

Eyes wide, she took a step towards the middle of the maze -

"Close your mouth, Ishin. You look highly unattractive."

Sarakshi half-jumped at the sound. Tora was leaning against the hedge, hands folded behind his head in the shadows. "Congratulations," he drawled. "You managed to take half an hour to find a place you should have been able to spot in five minutes."

"Have you ever considered a career as a lawyer?" Sarakshi asked drily. "Screwing people up - just the thing for you."

"You, of course, would know."

Her eyes narrowed. Then one of the fireflies whizzed past her and her frown disappeared. He couldn't have missed the change in her face if he had wanted to: it was too instantaneous, too real, to not be conspicuous.

"You like firelies." It was not a question; it was a statement.

"They're tiny. And full of light." Her eyes followed the path of one tiny, full of light creature. "They make me curious."

His eyes flickered towards the fireflies. There was a pause. Then -

"They're insects," he said drily.

The corners of her mouth twitched.

"What?" He asked, his eyes narrowing.

"You're so... factual." She shook her head in a I-can't-phrase-it sort of manner. "Here -" Stepping up to him, she took his arm. Tora froze (Women did not touch him until he allowed them to. Not as if it were the most normal thing on the planet to do. Not without expecting some form of retaliation.) but she seemed not to have noticed as she pulled him towards the centre of the maze. The fireflies drifted as the two of them approached, a mist of orange-gold light around the white lamp. "Look at it. It's beautiful."

The sole reason it was there, was that it was beautiful enough to be part of the Igarashi household. Her perception of it went farther than that, though. He understood that without her having to put it into words. (Not that - he believed - she could have put it into words.) He looked at the scene that unfurled in front of him. What if he couldn't own it? No. That wasn't how she looked at it. She looked at it with the eyes of someone who _didn't_ want to own it. Someone who found it beautiful without having to enslave or hoard or flaunt it. Someone who didn't look for a _reason_ in the beauty.

He looked down at the hand curled around his arm.

"They're still insects," he drawled.

She blinked. "Wow."

"You have a thing for lost causes, don't you? Marjani. Me. Yourself."

"I'm not a lost cause!"

"So you're agreeing you have a thing for me?" Tora asked lazily.

"I'm agreeing you're a lost cause," she said sweetly.

There was something about her - the clear mischief in her eyes; the soft curve of her mouth - that made him smile. Her eyes flickered. She opened her mouth... and then she seemed to change her mind and closed it. What had she been thinking? His free hand grabbing her other arm, he pulled her - hard - against himself.

"How embarrassing is it?" He breathed.

Her eyes widened. "I have no idea what you're talking ab -"

His lips dropped to her neck. "You're a terrible liar."

"And an excellent judoka."

He smiled against her neck. "Are you threatening me?"

She kicked him. She had a habit of not holding back her punches - the kick hurt. He could ignore that for now, however. _For now_. "Has it occurred to you that I might be a masochist?" He asked, his grip on her tightening.

"You're sodden. If I catch a cold -"

"How embarrassing is it?" He breathed against her neck.

She could feel his wet shirt against hers. The rise and fall of his chest was calm; there was a sureness to it that made her look up into his face. He hadn't been expecting that: in the moment his expression smoothed into a smirk, she caught the darkness in his eyes and the completely natural confidence in his hold on her. The raw emotion left her stunned. "You look beautiful when you smile," she said, voice gentle. Her hand closed around his to detach it from her waist; he let her remove it without a word. She straightened up and smiled, a rueful sort of smile. "We should go."

"Who was he?"

She turned around. "Who was who?" She asked, the confusion in her eyes slipping into her voice.

He leaned back against the hedge. When he spoke, his gaze was fixed on the hedge opposite him and his voice was a cold drawl. "Your boyfriend."

"I wonder what kind of place keeps a record for that," she said drily.

"I didn't have to check records." He smiled, an oh-so-amiable smile.

"You know what?" Her eyes met his. "I'm not going to ask you to explain how you know. Because that is _exactly_ what you want me to do."

"Getting wiser, aren't you?" He straightened up. The fireflies scattered into a network of overlapping yellows and oranges as he passed them. Falling in step besides her, he motioned towards the path.

"Not thanks to your company, I'm sure," she muttered as she began to walk.

"Your deflection skills, on the other hand," he said lazily. "Are still what they used to be: non-existent."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't see a reason to tell you about my personal life."

"Or lack thereof," Tora said smoothly.

"You." She paused. "Are unbelievable."

"I'd like to know who could bring himself to put up with you." There was a maddening smirk in his voice. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"The fact that you'd speak something that isn't at least half a lie? Yes, Igarashi. Yes, it is."

He grinned. "Humour me. It's a long walk back. We can do it my way or we can do it the... troublesome way."

"You do realize that your way and the troublesome way are one and the same, don't you?"

"If I wanted -"

"We broke up over a year ago. You're not going to get food for manipulation, even if I tell you. There's nothing there you can use for emotional blackmail."

Hands in the pockets of his slacks, he stopped. There was a frown on her face and it occurred to him that she had never even considered the possibility that he might want to know for a reason that didn't involve making her miserable. "I'm sure I could find something," he said, voice cool.

"He was an arts student." She gave half a shrug. "Older. Fantastic with colours. Bit of a genius."

"Boring," Tora drawled.

Her eyebrows rose. "Peaceful."

"But you broke up with him."

"He moved. We drifted apart. We're still good friends."

"You two didn't break up with him because he moved. You two broke up because he bored you."

She turned around to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "And here I thought you were smart."

"You'd rather deny than accept it. Interesting."

"I'm not -"

He stepped in front of her in one smooth move. "I'm the last person you should be trying to fool. You want to be challenged. You _need_ to be challenged." She was far too herself to not want to explore. Experiment. Grow. "Nine chances out of ten, he was a competent little fool who knew all about what he wanted from life and nothing about what you did."

"I'm sure we're all refreshed by your unique point of view." She shot him a dirty look.

He smirked in response. She chose to ignore him as she wound her way around a path that would lead to a dead-end. He knew that and he made no effort to stop her. Or himself. There was a dizzying sort of warmth there - being around her - and it didn't come from the curve of her shoulder or the scarlet hair trailing past her back - it came from the softness of her mouth and the alight, curious look in her eyes and the strength of her confidence in herself and the sound of her laughter. The silence stretched and she seemed to realize it was unusual; her face tilted to look up at him.

"What are you thinking?" She asked, voice curious.

No one - _no one_ - asked him that for the sake of wanting to know. "I'm thinking of pushing you into the nearest wall," Tora drawled.

She muttered something under her breath. It sounded like _which, I imagine, is what you think about anything that walks_. His hands captured her arms and pinned her, flush, against the wall. "You sound disgruntled," he said, voice a caress.

She raised her gaze and met his, glare for his grin. "Because you disgruntle me."

His lips pulled into an amused smirk. "Because I get more action than you?"

"Because you treat people like commodities." The image of the redhead in the music room flashed into her mind; her eyes flashed. "You don't give a damn about their emotions. That girl -" The wise thing to do would have been to make sure she never brought that up. The reminder left her filled with a sea of cold anger, however. "You used her. She's in love with you -"

"I'm flattered that you believe I'm an incorrigible villain, Ishin, but -" His voice had gotten cold. Colder than hers. "She is quite well aware that I'm not in love with her."

"That's the worst part of it." Sarakshi could feel her voice growing quieter with each word. "She knows that just as well as you know that she's in love with you. So you use her because you can. Because she'd do anything for you -"

He could feel it inside of him. The tension that he seemed to have been locked and soldered for months. He forced his expression into a smirk. "Interesting," he drawled. "What I do in private should be none of your business. Yet you make it a point to ensure that it is. Could it be that my gaggle of women makes you... jealous?"

Her eyes widened. "Don't be ridiculous."

His fingers raised a lock of scarlet hair to her cheek. He moved in closer - close enough so that she could feel the heat radiating off him in the dark damp. "It bothers you," he whispered. "It bothers you and it isn't just because I treat them as expendable. Because if it were that, you wouldn't react how you do react to me."

"I don't -"

"I challenge you," he drawled. "You like that. You like knowing someone isn't afraid to give you a hard time. You like knowing someone gives you a hard time _because_ he believes you can rise up to the challenge." His mouth dropped to her ear. "And I make you nervous."

There was something in the drawl - the cool accent; the skilful words - that was too smooth. Too practiced. There was a sense of suppressed tension, a curt sort of tension, beneath them. Her eyes narrowed. "Deflecting what I say isn't going to make you any more of a gentleman -"

"Because I kiss a girl who wants me to? Ah yes. Your logic is impeccable."

"You know she lets you because she hopes she _might_ have a chance. So you take her emotions and everything else she's more than willing to give you, even though you have no chance of ever returning any of it, because that's the vindictive person you are -"

"_Because that's the vindictive person you make me_."

It felt like a box of scorching heat had exploded between them: Sarakshi could feel her pupils expand in surprise. Their eyes met and the ice in his gaze made her flinch.

"In the case you haven't noticed." His voice was cold. "I want you. And I -" He jerked her chin up in one curt movement and forced her to meet his eyes "- _always_ take what I want. If I do you a favour and don't force you into giving me what I do want from you, that doesn't mean I want it any less. That doesn't mean I don't notice how your body reacts to me. That doesn't mean I don't realize what that means. So unless you're willing to let me have what I want, you should cut the goody-two shoes act. Because I'm doing nothing other than compensating for it with someone who's _perfectly willing and happy_ to do what I ask of her."

She could feel the hard muscles that his shirt sleeves moulded to. The strength of them - not the strength. The actual, even if unconscious, _show_ of that strength - left her stunned.

"Back off," she whispered. "Back off, Igarashi. You're miserable and you just need someone to blame for it." She pushed him off her. "You want me to believe you wouldn't have been womanizing if I hadn't been who I am?" Of course his gaggle of women bothered her. Of course his gaggle of women irked her. Because it was _wrong_. "Your father is a cold-hearted bastard who raised you without an ounce of affection and everything materialistic you ever wanted. You know that's not how life is supposed to work but just because that's how it's worked for you, you refuse to give a damn about others. You refuse to treat anyone else as a human being. You refuse to treat _me_ as a human being. It's about you and your cold, hard facts. It's _always_ about you and your cold, hard facts because you're too shallow to look past them for so much as a single second. You have to manipulate and purchase people. Because you don't think there will ever be another way. You've never loved anyone so you think no one else can ever love you, either."

He let go of her as if burned. The rain seeped into the ground and into her clothes and down his muscled forearm. She raised her face to his. "I used to think you were like Marjani. Tough but not foul. But you aren't. You're no different from your father - mean-spirited and manipulative and incapable of good. You never were."

She turned around and walked off.

-;-

The scent of wet mud was thick in the air. Sarakshi almost didn't notice it as she trudged herself a path to the entrance of the maze. She hadn't realized how cold and wet she was: she realized it now.

It didn't matter.

What had she done? What the hell had she done? It had been true to an extent. Beyond that it had just been harsh and uncharacteristic of her. _He bit where it hurt. I bit back._ It was an excuse, perhaps even an excuse that justified her behaviour but in the end, it was nothing but an excuse. If she was going to speak to hurt - if she was going to be cruel - what difference did that leave between her and him?

And he would react.

Tora Igarashi did not react often; he acted. But when he did react? He made sure you wished that you'd never been born. The shadow of a sprawling tree drowned her in total darkness as she sat down. Seconds trickled into minutes. She heard the music inside the hall grow louder. Slower. Faster. What would he tell those people? He could tell anything and he would be believed. It was easy revenge. Which was just the reason that, had circumstances been normal, she would have been certain beyond a shred of doubt that Tora would never go for it.

Circumstances weren't normal, however.

"Ishin-san."

Her eyes rose to see Maki's figure standing over her. "Maki-kun?" She could feel the surprise in her voice. Taste it on her tongue. "I had no idea -"

"Please. There's no need to stand." Maki's close-eyed smile was as gentle - as nice - as _fake_ as ever. "Is everything alright?"

"Ye -"

_You're a terrible liar_, _Ishin_.

"- Yes." She smiled up at him. "I was just going to leave -"

"No, you weren't."

Her eyes flickered. Then she nodded. "No, I wasn't." She picked up her bag and rose to her feet. "Goodnight, Maki-kun."

"Is it Tora?"

She turned around. The wind was a patchwork of falling and unfalling and dried and drying leaves around them. "Good night, Kanade."

His eyes widened. Then his lips tugged up into a smile. "Tora doesn't look at people. He looks through them. He sees their ambitions and desires and motives. He sees their weaknesses and the things he can use to his advantage. But he looks at you and not through you. He sees you where he sees no one else. It takes someone who's been around him to know."

"I should get home." Her heart felt like it was caught between her ribs - it was an unpleasant sensation. Sarakshi reached for a hair-tier to pull her hair into a ponytail. Her bangs escaped it to hide her forehead as she turned around to leave.

"There were no reporters allowed inside, today," Maki said.

The statement turned her to stone. Caused her insides to flush cold. She turned around and, when she did, there was a fierce kind of cold in her gaze. "You expect me to believe that?"

"No." There was no rise or fall in Maki's tone - it was still smooth, still polite. "But considering what making sure no reporters were allowed to attend the fundraiser cost him, I expect you to hear me out."

"He has enough money for cost not to have to be a problem -"

"I don't know what you said to him but if it makes you guilty enough to pretend I meant financial cost when you can tell I didn't, it must have been quite something."

Her eyes widened. "Why are you doing this?" She whispered.

"Because I owe him."

_Because I owe him._ The same thing that Marjani had said. Her lips twisted into an ironic smile. "I've heard that said before."

"More people owe Tora than you would realize."

"Did he tell you to do this? Like he told you to lure me into his office on the pretext of -"

"No." Maki's voice was still as polite as ever. "He left." When her eyes flickered in a show of surprise - it was clear she hadn't expected him to say that - he smiled. "He had to meet Yuki. She's leaving."

"Of course." She had forgotten that. "It makes sense. They're good friends."

"There's no such thing as good friends with Tora. You're either friends with him or you aren't. But yes. Yuki and he are... friends."

She looked up at him - the fixed expression - the fake smile - and there was something in there that made her want to reach up and touch his cheek. "And are you friends with him?"

His eyes opened as if he had never considered the question. "I wouldn't say so." His voice was still polite. "I should get going. I just thought you ought to know. There were no reporters allowed inside the house, today. I should know because -" The close-eyed smile was back - "I made the calls that hired the fake reporters and told the real ones we didn't need their services tonight."

She believed him. He didn't know why, but he knew that she believed him - he could see it in the clear chaos in her eyes.

"Does Mr. Igarashi know?"

"He does now. Understandably, Tora had to..." There was a pause in which she realized he was attempting _not_ to phrase the trouble - and she could imagine the trouble. Genkei Igarashi was not a nice man. - that had caused for Tora. "Leave for the airport early. Shall I drop you home, Ishin-san?"

"No." She hitched her handbag over her shoulder._ You're just like your father. Mean-spirited and manipulative and incapable of good. _Her heart seemed to have leaped into her throat. She had to force herself to sound calm. "Goodnight, Kanade."

"Goodnight, Ishin-san."

She turned to walk off. Then she turned back. Maki was looking in the distance with eyes that were half-closed. She could see the alertness - the vagueness - in them. "Kanade?"

He turned to look at her with half a smile. "Ishin-san?"

"He does." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "He does see you as a friend. He always has."

His eyes widened but she did not wait for his response; she was out of his range of sight and in the shadows within minutes.

-;-

The path to her door was bathed in soft late-night light. The kind of light that is a hazy mixture of yellow lampposts and fluorescent bulbs the neighbours have forgotten to switch off and old deep darkness. Sarakshi stepped up to her apartment door to unlock it - she never left it locked until she knew she would be out late - and her eyes widened.

There was a bouquet of white roses lying on her doormat.

The bouquet of white roses Igarashi had given her earlier.

She bent down to touch it. It was still fresh: she could inhale its scent even now. She'd left it on the bench outside the maze. Forgotten all about it. She picked it up and dropped it on to the table once she stepped into her apartment.

Then she said,

"You didn't have to check up on me."

"What makes you think I'm here because I was concerned?"

His voice was cold enough to cause her to flinch. She turned around as he stepped out of the shadows. With no lights switched on it should have been too dark to tell who the person standing outside her door was. It was, too: she could not, after all, see more than a figure. But there was something about the figure - the elegance in his posture; the grace with which he stood - that made it clear it could be no one else. He filled up the door without even trying and she realized, with a sudden, almost startling sense of realization, that that did not feel _unfamiliar_. Her feet felt numb as she switched on the lights in the lounge. The illumination threw him into sharp relief - the dark eyes, the warm coat, the windswept hair.

_What makes you think I was concerned?_

Think? There was nothing to think and everything to _know_. He had checked up on her because it was late. Because she had been upset. Because he was too much of a patronizing _jerk_ to ever defend himself. She wanted to grab his collar with both hands and shake him hard. Knock some sense into him.

She took off her overcoat; it huddled into her arms as she walked up to the coat-hanger.

"Because I know you."

"You were right."

His voice made her freeze; she turned around, the overcoat she had just taken off still gathered in her arms, the wind whipping her hair behind her.

"It is always the cold, hard facts." His voice was devoid of emotion. "Because you know what? The cold, hard facts don't get to walk off."

Her eyes widened. "I shouldn't have -"How did you put into words what you couldn't put into words? Tell someone you hadn't meant to demean the people that person loved? Belittle their childhood? Their life? It was useless. She'd never been good with words. "Spoken like that. I had no right to."

"You meant what you said. You shouldn't have regrets, commoner." His voice was still cold. Cold enough to cause her to want to flinch. "Good night, Ishin."

He was leaving. In a sense, he already had. Her eyes rose from the overcoat to look at the doormat he no longer stood on.

"Igarashi," she said.

He did not turn back; her eyes widened at the realization that he wouldn't. She'd never thought there might be a time when he would ignore her and she would wish otherwise. The idea felt like panic. Like something that shouldn't be. "_Igarashi_."

The door swung half-close as he walked past the railing.

"Tora," she said, quietly.

He stilled. There was something furious and pleading in her voice at the same time and, as he turned around, it occurred to him that if the little chit of a girl knew even half the things he wanted to do to her at this moment, she would not be standing there, her arms crossed against her chest and her eyes wide, both details a direct contradiction to each other.

"What do you want?" He asked, his voice cold.

"I…" It was awkward to have to bridge the distance between the two of them. She took a step towards him and, for a moment, she did not have the words. "I didn't mean what I said earlier," she said, voice quiet.

"The part where you insulted my father, or the part where you compared me to Marjani Suoh?" There was amusement in his voice, the kind of amusement that made you want to take a step back and, the first moment that you could, run for your life in the opposite direction. The tone made her want to wince.

"The part where I insulted you," she said, arms crossed against her chest. Knowing she was in the wrong, and having to admit it to Tora Igarashi, did not make her feel too overjoyed.

"I see." His grin was cold. "Apparently, the comparison to Marjani Suoh still stands." The comparison to Marjani Suoh. The reality of it made him want to crush something to pieces with his bare hands. If she wanted Marjani as much as Marjani wanted her, he would never - and he knew that without ever having to tell himself this - stand in their path. Was he jealous? Damn it, he was. "He is… what is it? Ah yes, he _pleases_ you more than I do."

"That is." She could feel her insides flush cold. "Quite enough, Igarashi."

"Perhaps you should stick to my first name. You see, the name Igarashi is still _far_ above you."

It was the one thing he could have said, right then, that could have thrown her resolve into pieces and exploded her temper into flames. "This is." Her voice was cold. "Why you will never be better than Marjani."

Something like a satisfied smirk crossed his features. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?" He could hear how nonchalant he sounded as if it did not matter to him either way. "That I could never measure up to Marjani? How far have you two gotten, anyway? Has he… taken you yet?"

Her eyes widened. "You're vile," she whispered.

"Then why." His voice was cold and full of anger. Her hair spilled over her shirt like scarlet fire and it was no longer about domination or control: it was about something he wanted so damn much, the mere thought of it made him break every rule he had ever set down for himself. "_Are you wasting your time on me_?"

She looked up at him, into his face, and what she saw there, left her stunned. Desire. Hunger. Need. Torture. The answer he wanted and didn't have. He was, she thought, beautiful. Beautiful and terrible but, mostly, beautiful. Her hand rose as if to cup his cheek but he was too tall and, at some point between desperation and insanity, she placed it on the top of his shirt. "I keep trying to find in the good in you," she whispered.

He stepped back and her eyes widened. Dark in the darkness. "But of course." His insides felt cold but his voice was calm. "You've been attempting to mould me into the perfect little anti-hero I never was."

"That was not what I –"

"That was _exactly _what you meant." His hand was on the doorknob and, as he stepped outside into the dim light, Sarakshi realized that, when she had whispered what she had whispered, she might just have said the one thing he had been afraid to hear.

* * *

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_If anyone is still reading - *hidesfromeveryone* - I am so sorry for the huuuuge time lapse between the last chapter and this one. I've been undergoing treatment for a disease. Constant double vision + college = Me not able to write._

_Thank you for all the reviews. I want to respond to all of them but I know if I started typing up replies, it would take forever. And at this point, I just want to get this chapter out there. So I'm sorry for the lack of replies. But. Youguysarethebest. And I'm so glad to be able to write for such fantastic people. :3 Things have been amazingly hard these past two months and your words have been part of the support system that's kept me going._

_Thank you for being there. =)_

_P.S: Did I mention I stole a quote from TVD for this chapter? No? *mentions it now*_

_...  
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_Clickety?  
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V


	22. Glaciers Melting in the dead of night

**c h a p t e r t w e n t y t w o  
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**glaciers MELTING in the dead of the night.  
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><p><em>AN: For those of you don't follow the __manga.. this chapter features Kaon Umekouji. She is - along with her twin brother Tomu - a part of Miyabigaoka's "Elite Group" (six super duper-rich kids) and one of my absolute favourite characters in the manga. She carries around a giant teddy bear which she loves. And which (whom? O_o) she calls Edward.  
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"You need to go through these."

Boots resting on the desk in front of him, Tora arched an eyebrow at the stack of papers Maki had set down in front of him with an air of finality. "Right now?" He asked.

"You ought to have gone through these the day before yesterday. We need these done by tonight."

This week... was not a good week for work. Tora felt on edge and short on patience - both things that were uncharacteristic to who he was - and overdue documentation was the last thing he wanted to attempt. He leaned forward in his desk - the position provided him a better view of the heels he could glimpse in the half-inch space between the closed classroom door and the floor - and nodded.

"Very well."

Maki's eyes narrowed. "You'll do them?"

"Of course." Giving him a smile that Maki knew was anything but real (something _had_ to be up for Tora to agree that fast when the task was not one of his choice) Tora picked up the bag lying on the seat next to his - a bag some student seemed to have forgotten behind - and rose to his feet. His footsteps were lighter than usual as he stepped towards the door. He paused there as if testing something in his mind.

Then he wrenched open the door in one sudden movement.

There was a yelp of surprise and a blur of movement as the person standing right behind the door attempted to bound off, but he'd caught the back of the girl's uniform before she could escape. He shut the door behind himself with the sole of his shoe as his gaze lowered itself to the mass of short blonde hair he knew so well.

"Well, well, well." He let go of the girl with a smile that would have sent the devil into hiding. "What do we have here?"

"I left my bag inside." The girl's cheeks were flushed pink in breathless surprise but she tossed her head with an arrogance that being caught in the act of spying on him didn't seem to dent in the least.

"So I could see." He held up the bag he had picked up earlier. "I was.. intending to return it."

"I'm sure I can't be grateful enough." She gave him a sharp-toothed smile as she snatched her bag from him. "See you around, President."

He moved faster than she did to block her path with effortless ease. "I don't think so," he said, voice soft.

Her arms tightened around the giant teddy bear she carried. "What do you want?"

"You were spying on me." His voice was no longer pretend polite: it was cold.

Her eyes narrowed. "I have no idea what you were talking about."

"Neither of us is a fool, Kaon." It wasn't as if he weren't aware of Kaon's Umekouji's need to one-up him once and forever. "You left your bag behind so you would have an excuse if I caught you eavesdropping."

"You're blabbering."

He took her chin between a thumb and a forefinger and raised it to his face. He could see the beads of sweat on her forehead - the one indication that she didn't feel half as confident in this face-off as her expression said. "Am I?"

_Darn._ This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. She had considerable influence in the school but it wasn't enough to overthrow the influence Igarashi had. Not to mention, she needed Tomu on her side to gather all of the influence she _did_ have and Tomu would never agree to help her out in a face-off with Igarashi - he wanted no part of her unwritten feud with the president. She slapped Igarashi's hand away, her large green eyes flashing. "What do you want?"

"I'm going to ignore you did that this one time." He smiled a sharp smile that meant business. "As for what I want from you.." His gaze flicked towards the closed classroom door. "We could start with that pile of papers inside there."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not doing your council work for you. Get one of your fangirls to do it."

"I don't think you understand." His eyes locked with hers and there was nothing nice about his gaze. "I'm not asking you. I'm _telling_ you."

Her eyes flashed. It wasn't f Miyabigaoka or her social circle that she was worried about. He could make things difficult for her if he tried hard enough but it wouldn't be simple, even for him, to turn the tide against her inside or outside Miyabigaoka. What she _was_ worried about was something far more bothersome than that.

What he might tell her parents.

Tora Igarashi was everything her parents were disappointed she hadn't turned out to be - Polite. Mature. Careful - and if he told them she'd been caught eavesdropping on people around the school premises.. Her lips pursed. She wasn't going to give up on her plan so easily. She _would_ make her parents realize she was as capable of taking over their trade as Tomu was. If she could just dig up enough dirt on the Igarashis to make her parents realize she knew how to get things done..._ I'll have to do what he wants me to do right now, but I can still make this a win-win situation. If I could just convince him we can both benefit from this -  
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"I know you don't want any trouble with me," Kaon said, voice cool. "If it comes down to a fight, you're well aware you won't escape unscathed either. You don't want that. So let's make sure neither of us has a reason to bring our fight out into the open. If I do your work, what do I get in return?"

She was clever. But then he'd never doubted that. If there was one thing Kaon knew how to do well, it was how to give an excellent - and utterly mean and conscienceless - fight.

"You're in no position to bargain," he drawled.

She smirked. "Don't be a spoilsport. We both have something the other needs and we both know what it is. You're well aware of what I want so you can always be prepared. Isn't that what you pride yourself on? Knowing others well enough to tell what's going on in their minds? Predict their moves? This game of cat-and-mouse." She tilted her chin with her signature smirk. "It will be fun. You know it will."

She knew that would appeal to him, wouldn't it? The high stakes. The knowledge that the two of them would work together knowing that neither could ever trust the other. The manipulation and maneuvering and intelligence that would determine which one of them won over the other.

But he had too much experience hooking others on to his bait to fall for hers.

"How much council work are you willing to do for that?" He drawled.

Her eyes narrowed. What was he thinking? She hated it when she couldn't tell.

"Just this once."

He smirked. "For the rest of the year."

She threw her head back and laughed. For the rest of the year? Did he realize how _much_ work that was? "Don't kid me, Igarashi."

He held out a hand. "We date."

He could tell she understood because the sentence left her eyes as round as saucers and her lips parted in astonishment. It meant free access to whatever she wanted free access to. Business dinners. His father. His house. Even his room and cellphone if she could catch him off-guard. Whenever and wherever.

Then her eyes narrowed.

"You're planning to stab me in the back."

"So are you." His smile was all sharp teeth. "It should be.. fun."

Something like a slow smile spread across her face. Her hand came to a rest in his. "We have a deal."

"Good girl." Hands in the pockets of his jeans, he walked right past her. Her mouth opened in anger at the nonchalant dismissal - and turned into a snarl when he looked over his shoulder and gave her an amiable smile. "You had better get started on the paperwork. There's enough to last you for a week."

-;-

"See you tomorrow, Sora."

"See you, Sarakshi."

Perhaps he wouldn't have heard the end of the conversation if he hadn't been listening. But he had been. The thought - and he couldn't get rid of it because if there was one thing Tora Igarashi had always prided himself on, it was his ability to keep in touch with reality, no matter how disorienting it was - caused his grip on Linda's arm to tight.

He saw the streak of red hair disappear outside the auditorium and reminded himself now was not a good time to be irritated.

It seemed he was a little too late, though.

"Prez?" Linda said.

He loosened his grip and looked down at her. _Don't think, _he told himself._ Rehearse the kiss_. He leaned down as she tilted her face... and then he stepped back, the action causing her hand to fall off his shoulder.

"What are you two doing?" Daiki's voice, loud and shrill, was incredulous. "That is not in the script. That is not –"

Tora turned and Daiki fell silent, at once.

"Do you." Tora's voice was cold. "Doubt my acting abilities?"

"N-no." Daiki did not sound as loud as usual. In fact, he did not sound loud at all. "Should I… should I call of the rehearsal?"

"Do what you want but make sure you don't disturb me." His eyes lingered on Daiki. The little man squeaked a yes and hurried off, as if attempting to put as much of a distance as he could between himself and the student council president.

Feeling a savage sort of satisfaction, Tora stepped off the stage. The changing room was silent when he stepped inside; standing above the sink, he splashed water on to his face again and again and -

"Prez?"

He turned around. Linda was standing at the door of the boys' changing rooms, a fact that she did not seem too concerned about. She was still in the dress he had chosen for her for the final act, blue and silver and all tiers, her blonde hair falling, sleek and straight, to her thighs.

"Linda." His tone was nonchalant. "Something the matter?"

"That." She said. "Is what I wanted to ask you."

"I'm not in the mood to kiss you." His voice was so cool, it amazed him because he felt like - _was_ - cold rage on the inside. _You're no different from your father - mean-spirited and manipulative and incapable of good. You never were._ And then, _I keep trying to find the good in you_. The desire to hurt someone, and hurt someone bad, seemed to lock around each part of him. "Does that bother you?"

"It doesn't, as a matter of fact." There was a grin in her voice. "Plenty more fish in the sea."

"And would one of those fish –" He was aware that she was too comfortable with who she was and what she wanted from men, to be intimidated by just physical closeness and, when he took a step towards her, attempting to exploit a weakness that wasn't there was the last thing on his mind. What was on his mind, was exploiting the weakness that was there; and he felt no remorse whatsoever about it. He wanted to lash out. Hurt someone because he hurt and him hurting wasn't something he was used to. "Be former servant extraordinaire, Marjani Suoh?"

He saw her eyes flicker in disbelief and felt a savage sort of pleasure at the hurt that flared up in her face. "Perhaps you should -" Her voice was cold and that – considering that it was Linda who was speaking, Linda who could sound pleased and annoyed and wicked, but who never, ever sounded cold – made him smirk, a satisfied smirk, in response. "Work on your own love-life before you attempt to take out the frustration it causes you, on others, President Igarashi."

Whatever modicum of satisfaction he had gained from his earlier question, seemed to burst into flames.

"You don't want to pick a row with me."

"No, I don't." She met his eyes, cold gaze for cold gaze. "But unless you want Marjani to have his hands all over her –"

"Marjani wouldn't." He could feel how cold his voice had gone. "Do something like that."

"Why not?" There was a challenge in her voice. "He's in love with her. He has principles but, believe me, people have done worse than break their own rules in love and war. And this." She straightened up and her hair fell down her shoulders like a golden waterfall. "Is both."

"She can take care of herself."

"The question here is if she wants to. She might not be _in _love with Marjani, but she loves him. And sometimes, that's more than enough."

"I have no idea." Tora stepped back and brushed past her with practiced indifferent. "What you are talking about."

"Believe me, President Igarashi." Linda said and, hand on the doorknob, he paused for half a moment. Half a moment, but enough time for her to smile, an ironic little smile. "You are _never _without an idea."

-;-

The thick scents of fresh bread and paint were warm to the point of being dizzying. Sarakshi inhaled them as she set down the dripping paintbrush and turned around to pick up a piece of toast.

"So it's tomorrow."

Marjani turned around. "So Kurumi says."

She frowned. Her apartment had never seemed small before. It did now. He filled up too much of it and he filled it up without having to attempt to. There was something about him - something far deeper and far darker than she would ever be able to comprehend - that dwarfed everything else. "This... isn't right," she said.

He lowered the paintbrush in his hand. "I agree - you're wasting time."

"I have paint all over me." She motioned to the t-shirt that was stained with copious amounts of paint. "You're spotless. How is that fair?"

"Life doesn't tend to be, does it now?"

She propped herself on the edge of the table, legs dangling off the side, wrapped-up toast in hand. Now that she had a rather sane conversation going on... "You're dating Linda," she said confidently.

"Glad to know you've heard." His tone might have been the single most sarcastic thing she had heard in her entire life. "I was beginning to think I'd have to call TV Japan."

"Right," she said. "You're _not_ dating Linda."

It _didn't_ amaze him that where others would have seemed embarrassed - even if just a little - she seemed unabashed altogether. Like there was nothing wrong about attempting to trick him into revealing details of his personal life he didn't seem inclined to share with her.

"You should stop throwing random statements at me in the hopes that I'll slip and let something on. Because -" The words were flat - "There's nothing to let slip."

"That's what they all say at first," she said, voice mock dark. She unwrapped a fresh loaf of bread - its smell, warm and alive and hazy, spread through the room like wildfire through a wood - and reached for the chocolate spread that was just outside of her reach. Leaning down, hair falling into his eyes, Marjani set the spread down in front of her. "Thanks." She paused. And then - "You're worried."

"Concerned."

She paused in the act of spreading chocolate over a piece of bread. "I thought you were glad Kurumi and Kouma are together."

"I am." He didn't need to ask how she knew it had to do with Kurumi and Kouma - there was just one other person who could read him as well as she could. "How on earth did you manage to get paint on your _face_?"

"But you're concerned about something that has to do with Kurumi's announcement." Sarakshi touched her chin with her left hand and felt the edge of a blotch of paint. Great. How did you remove paint from your face? Take a bath in paint-remover? "How on earth did you manage to not get paint _anywhere_?"

There was a moment of silence in which she realized he seemed to be weighing his words. "Mr. Igarashi's reaction."

The three-word answer caused her to look up. "But I thought he liked Kurumi."

"He does. He dislikes me." The Suoh-Igarashi rivalry had never been secret, and Genkei Igarashi's dislike of him could stem from and be attributed to that. He wouldn't have chosen to tell her otherwise. Not now. Perhaps not ever. The thought of her coming to know how far the dislike went and the real cause behind it made his insides go cold. There were too many secrets - too much darkness - there.

She frowned. If he liked her and disliked him... "Shouldn't Kurumi and you ending things cheer him up?"

"Not if the break-up is mutual."

And she understood. It was just like Genkei - if his treatment of his own _son_ was any proof - to revel in the misfortune of someone he disliked.

"What would you say if I told you someone believes the reason I refer to Mr. Suoh as Mr. Suoh is because I don't think of him as my father?"

"I'd say Linda's right," she said, without looking up. "Where's the milk?" She was so sure she'd brought it out when she'd gone into the kitchen. "We can't have bread without milk."

"_You_ can't have bread without milk. I'll get it. I need to get sauce for this -" He pointed to the bowl of ramen that he ought to have finished half an hour ago - "Too."

"No. It's fi -" But he'd risen to his feet. She followed him into the kitchen. He was looking down at the step-stool placed next to the counter and his eyebrows were arched.

"How short are you?" He asked and his voice might just have been a little incredulous.

"I think the polite question is, how _tall_ are you," she said drily. "And I'm not short. You're too tall."

He threw her a _look_ as he stepped around the step-stool. There was a certain feline sort of grace to Marjani Suoh that made one want to watch him and she tilted her head to one side, her eyes large and blue, as he reached for the cabinet-doors. Turning around, he lightly tossed a bottle of chocolate-milk towards her.

She caught it neatly with both hands. "You know." She looked down at the bottle with a grin. "When I was six, I wanted to take a bath in chocolate-milk for my birthday."

His eyes flicked to her with a faint edge of surprise. He'd never heard her mention details of her childhood before. "Most kids would have just wanted the chocolate-milk," he grinned; and then: "Did your parents let you?"

Her lips quirked into a smile. "My mother told me a lot of people have to go without food because there isn't enough so we shouldn't waste it. So I told her we could fill a tub with chocolate-milk and give it to the people who didn't have food. She smiled but I wasn't sure she'd heard me right. So I went into the kitchen in the afternoon and tried to fill a pan with chocolate-milk." She made a face. "I made a _terrible_ mess."

A smile flickered across his face. "What did your mother do?"

"She said I was a hopeless case and that she loved me."

He froze. Then he looked over the counter at her and his voice was even. "She had a point with that first thing."

Her lips tugged up into a grin. She leaned her head against his arm - she didn't reach his shoulder, not when he was standing - and his eyes flickered to her in the middle of pouring sauce into his ramen.

"Here." He said and held up a spoonful of the dish.

"Thank you," she said. "You smell of paint. And pepper."

"Your compliments are always wide of range and flattering," Marjani said drily.

"I know." She grinned and the corners of his lips curved into a half-smile... which disappeared when she opened a can of sliced green onions right into his ramen and stuck her tongue out at him with the mischievous eyes of someone who _knew_ he hated it when someone interfered with his food.

"Even you -" He caught her wrist as she picked up a bottle of sauce whose contents he knew she intended to drop into his ramen. She grinned up at him but his eyes were dark and his hand rose to cup her jaw, his fingers curling in her hair, and her grin vanished, wiped off her face in one breathless stroke. "Don't get to mess with my food."

"I -" She stepped back. "I didn't mean to -" But she _had_ meant to. She closed the can and threw open the window, normal things, everyday things, as if any of those could make things alright, make her forget the darkness in his eyes when he'd looked at her. It didn't work so she changed tactics. "You're coming to our car-wash fundraiser, aren't you?"

"Yes." The sunlight that spilled into the room turned her hair orange-red. And it occurred to him that Linda was right and he didn't believe he was good enough because he wasn't and he'd never be. "If you ask me to."

She turned around and their eyes met. There was nothing in his except darkness. Darkness and the acceptance that there were no guarantees. She felt a sudden wave of gentle affection wash over her at at the openness of the emotion. How could he think that there were no guarantees? That she might choose to leave? She could never not love Marjani Suoh.

"I will always ask," she said and there was no doubt in her mind or heart that it was as true as life or death or everything in between. "Even if you say no."

-;-

"I knew there was a reason I volunteered for this car-wash." Leaning against the hood of the car she was supposed to wash, Linda looked past Sarakshi at the car that had just pulled in.

Sarakshi looked up to see a lean young man climb out of said car. "Isn't he a little old for you?" She asked drily.

"Nothing wrong with looking, is there?"

"I doubt that's all your intending to do." Sarakshi pointed out as she bent down to retrieve a hose. Picking it up, she looked up.. and sighed. Linda had already sauntered off towards the car and its owner. Untangling the hose with half a smile, Sarakshi rose to her feet.

"Redheaded girl!" Kaon's cheerful voice stopped her. "Can you get the box in the storeroom to Tomu? He says he needs them at once."

Redheaded girl? Sarakshi resisted the urge to make a face. "Sure."

It took her several minutes to reach the storeroom. The muscles in her stomach seemed to tighten when she did reach it - Maki and Igarashi were standing outside of it. She'd known Maki was in charge of the supplies but it had never occurred to her that Igarashi would be with him. She hesitated and almost turned on her heel -

"Ishin-san." Maki's voice reached her. "Do you need something?"

"Wha?" She jumped. "Y-yes. Just a few. Stuff." Just a few stuff? What on earth was she saying? Her eyes flickered to Igarashi but he was leaning against the wall, cellphone in hand. She might as well not have existed. The sight caused the anger to spill up hot in her face. How _dare_ he think he was the sole person hurt in this whole thing? "I'll be fine, thank you, Kanade."

She swept past him and Igarashi. The door of the storeroom swung shut behind her; inside, the place smelled of old wood and dust. Sarakshi scanned it for the boxes Kaon had mentioned and found them in the corner, stacked upon what looked like an old table. She grabbed hold of one.. and realized she couldn't move it. What on earth was inside it? She poked it to check and, when that didn't turn out to be of much use, bent down and attempted to move it again. Two minutes of attempting later, however, there was a bead of sweat dripping down her neck and a stubborn look on her face. She stood on her tiptoes to get a better hold of the thing… and someone lifted the box off the table.

The action she hadn't expected, caused her to jump. She turned around… and her eyes widened.

Tora leaned down, lifted the second box and, the action graceful and effortless, set it down on the floor next to the first. He turned to her and, voice cool, asked, "Do you need anything else moved?"

The last time she had faced him, his manner had been cold and his eyes colder. Now, his manner was detached; his eyes indifferent. He looked neat in a ridiculously perfect sort of manner, all ironed clothes and innate grace and sophisticated badge. She couldn't have reconciled this nonchalant student council president to the person who had walked out on her and left her world tilted, and she wasn't sure who made her angrier, the man who could send her world crashing with so much as a simple action or the president who had half the female population at Miyabigaoka High wrapped around his finger. It was ridiculous. How could anyone be so perfect and so damn _wrong_?

"I didn't need anything moved," she said.

"Didn't you now?" He leaned back against a table, a smirk in his voice. "Entertaining as the denial of your physical inferiority is, commoner, it is still a denial."

"Is there a reason you're here? Other than the fact that you'd like to take out your anger on me?"

"I like to see you working, Ishin. It is quite... entertaining."

Sarakshi was aware that the statement was supposed to infuriate her. It didn't. Chin set, she pulled down the last box. It fell to the floor with an audible _thud._ She grabbed the handles and dragged it to the door. Or at least, attempted to. She was too preoccupied to see where she was going and the box hit the table with a deafening clang and the other boxes still stacked on the table rained down in one sudden cascade.

He had told himself he would retrace the almost-trust the two of them had built. Success came from control. Of yourself and of your surroundings. That someone who didn't even reach his shoulder could turn his world over did not just dent that control: it shattered it. He needed distance between the two of them. He needed to know he could - and_ would_ - still hurt her without hurting himself. But she was a reckless idiot and when the boxes toppled over there was no time to think about distance and control and not hurting himself. He caught her, one arm wrapping itself around her to pull her out of the path of the falling boxes with an almost curt movement, and the realization that there would never be a time - Not now. Not ever. - when he could see her get hurt and not feel it like a physical pain to his own self caused him to still.

He let her go before she could attempt to step back. When he spoke, his voice was cool.

"Perhaps you should leave the physical work to those who can do it, commoner."

She shoved him.

He never saw it coming. How the hell could he have? She shoved him back hard and he hit the wall with a resounding thud. The force of the impact sent a stack buckets toppling over. His impulse was to avoid the contact and he felt a jolt of pain go through him as his wrist collided with the hard rim of a pail. She landed on top of him as water rained down on both of them and - as his eyes rose to meet hers - she grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and pulled him closer.

"You are." He could see the anger in her eyes and it took him half a second - less than half a second - to realize that she wasn't mad at what he had said: she was mad at him. "_An idiot_."

He hated it. How she could tell him what no one else could and his frost - his indifference - his coldness - all of it could still be nothing but a charade. If he leaned down, just a little, he could trace the angled line of her jaw. Taste the droplets clinging to her collarbone. _I keep trying to find the good in you._

"I don't remember giving you my permission to touch me," he drawled.

Her eyes widened. He felt her grip on his shirt loosen and it should have been satisfying, the knowledge that he'd hurt her enough to drive her off, but it didn't and -

She placed her head on his shoulder.

He stilled.

Tora Igarashi was - and there was no nice way of saying it - a womanizer, and a skilled one at that. He prided himself on his technique and the response he could elicit without fail each time. He knew what women wanted and he knew how to give it to them. But when she placed her head on his shoulder his stomach seemed to tighten. Because he realized - with a sudden clarity of mind that left him frozen - that he did not know what she wanted from him. That he didn't know how to give it to her. Didn't know a darned thing.

"I hate you," she whispered. "You can't walk out on me when I'm attempting to apologize. You can't -" She'd never ever been good with words and the lot of them ran into each other now. "Your principles are different from mine. That doesn't mean you don't have them." He'd saved her enough times for her to know the urge to protect was as natural to him as it was to her. How could he not know? How could he not realize? "You know me better than anyone else does. You should have known I didn't mean what I said. How could you not know that I didn't mean it?" Her hands clenched around his shirt. "How could you not _realize_?"

There was a tremor in her voice; he could feel the raw emotion - anger, hurt, desperation - in his hold on his shirt. "You're ruining my shirt," he said and his voice was calm, almost as if he were testing it, attempting to see if it would come out alright, come out even and not hoarse.

Her grip on his shirt tightened in anger. She wouldn't. Damn it, she wouldn't. She wouldn't let him drive her off because he thought she didn't care. Because she did. She cared. And she understood. She understood what it felt like to be hurt so often and for so long that you decided you'd strike before someone else could or be dead before you allowed yourself to be vulnerable again or cease to exist before you ceased to be considered perfect.

"You think you can hit others where you know it will hurt them most when you're hurting yourself and it'll make things alright? For that other person? For you? You _idiot_. If you're angry, _be_ angry. Stop being cold. Stop pretending nothing gets to you, that you've never cared." She raised her head and met his eyes and the darkness in them caused her eyes to widen and her voice to turn into a breath. "Let it go."

"I can't," he said.

And her world turned over because _I can't_ wasn't a denial but an acceptance and she could tell it was more than he'd ever given anyone. Her hand fell from his shoulder and her fingers brushed the discoloration around his wrist, the one the bucket had come in contact with. "Does it hurt?" She asked.

"No." He wrapped his uninjured arm around her waist and pulled her to her feet, setting her on the floor as he straightened up. "Now if you'll excuse me. I have things to attend to."

He turned... and she caught his wrist.

His _sprained _wrist.

The jolt that shot up his spine was excruciating. He looked at her over his shoulder; his eyes dipped from her dripping shirt to the hand around his wrist. He was quite, quite aware that she was quite, quite aware that the wrist in her grip was his injured one. He met her gaze, his own nonchalant.

"Something the matter?" He drawled.

"You're not getting to walk off." Did he think she couldn't tell when he was lying to her? Her grip loosened but she did not let go. Her fingers made a band around his wrist, warm, almost instinctively protective. "Not this time."

-;-

It went without saying that she refused to let go. In the end it was the curiousness that made him let her have her way. (Or so at least he told himself.) It took Tora several minutes to realize where she was taking him. When he did realize where she was headed, he had to arch an eyebrow.

"Kaon assigned you a task," he drawled.

"Kaon should be more than capable of dragging a couple of boxes outside a storeroom on her own." Stepping inside the nurse's room, Sarakshi looked around and frowned. The nurse wasn't there. Where on earth was she? Half a minute later she had decided it didn't matter and nodded towards the bed. "Sit."

"Such a waste of a perfectly good bed," Tora said lazily.

She rammed her elbow into his chest. Hard. "You know." She met his amused gaze with a glare. "I'm not above taking advantage of your injuries."

"You think something as little as this means you're a match for me?" He pushed her against the wall. Her eyes widened; he could feel her heartbeat quicken into a jarring, chaotic rhythm. "You do.." He raised her chin to his face. His voice was less than a breath but even so, the powerful - almost inherent - aura of authority could not have been lost on anyone. "Underestimate me."

She met his gaze, unfazed. "Sit down, tough guy."

A grin curved his mouth. He stepped back and plopped on to the bed, both legs stretched in front of him. "Well?" He asked lazily.

She sat down next to him, undoing his cuff and rolling up his sleeve to inspect the bruising. There were a few moments of total silence. Then -

"Ishin," he said.

"Mm?" She said without looking up.

"You do realize you're leaning forward a little too much, don't you?"

If there was one thing being around Tora Igarashi had taught her, it was that when he made a statement such as this, it was almost never true and almost always meant to get a reaction out of her. The kind of reaction that would entertain him. "Have you always been this perverted or did it come with practice?" She asked drily, rising to her feet and returning with an ice-pack.

There was something about how she treated the sprain - light and nimble and practiced - that made him frown.

"You've done this before."

"I had an accident-prone father." There was half a smile playing on her lips. "It helps that I had a nurse for a mother."

His eyes flickered. "Do you miss her?" He asked.

She looked up at him; he saw the hint of her bra under the neckline of her tank top at the movement and realized that he couldn't have cared less about it. Not at that moment. "Yes." She smiled and it was such a real smile, it left him stunned. "But I know she would have wanted me to move on with my life."

"This is hers." He touched the delicate bracelet that encircled her wrist.

"Yes." She smiled again. That real smile again. That smile that left him breathless. And it occurred to him that he'd never been breathless because of a smile before. Tempted and intoxicated and satisfied and furious, yes. But not breathless. "How did you know?"

"You touched it when you spoke of her." There were no innuendos, no comebacks, no entertaining reactions. But he wanted the conversation to last. There was something about her - the stubbornness and the fire and the contentment and the peace - that drew him to her and held him there. Made him want to know what made her who she was.

"Oh." She touched the bracelet again. "She gave it to me before she died. She used to have this theory about how every thing that happens happens for a reason. That the universe has reason. I never agreed with her. I still don't. But yes." She began to bandage his wrist and he let her despite the fact that he'd never otherwise have gotten his wrist bandaged for a sprain as casual as the one the falling boxes had caused. "I do miss her. She used to read me stories every night. Like parents do in, well, stories. Dad read them to me after she died. But he wasn't her."

Her hair had been swept back and some of it had come lose in the tussle in the storeroom. It fell into her eyes. Reaching forward, Tora touched a strand. The action caused her to look up. His hand brushing her cheek, he tucked the stray strand behind her ear. Her eyes widened and for a moment the silence pooled between them like darkness underneath the night sky.

Then she broke it. "I -"

"Mina _tried_ to read me stories," he cut across her. "She didn't like them though. She thought the princesses were too weak and the princes were too overrated." He had never told this to anyone before. Except - and his eyes flickered at the thought - Marjani. "So the princesses never waited for the princes - they took care of their problems themselves. And Jack never climbed the beanstalk - his sister did. Her plots were awful." He turned his head to look at her. "I hated them with a passion."

He expected her to tell him that was just like Mina. Or that it was fine. That parents could be eccentric and still love you.

"What did Jack do?" She asked.

His lips curved into a grin that could have broken Aphrodite's heart. "What Jack's mother does in the original tale," he said.

She grinned. "I like your mother."

"You wouldn't feel that charitable if she'd been attempted to dress you up in colourful suits on every formal occassion till you turned ten."

"But you didn't let her."

"Of course I didn't," He said, voice mock indignant. "I was a gentleman. Gentlemen wear black." He liked the little sound she made before she laughed, a warm chuckle of sorts. "Or I could have been attempting to emulate father. The world will never know."

Her lips curved. "And did he want you to emulate him? Your father?"

"Yes." He paused. "He -" _Loathed mistakes_. "Was never one to tolerate anything less than perfection."

"Honour Student, student council president, golf champion." She looked up at him with a frown. "That's an awful lot of things for him to be proud of."

Genkei? Proud? Of him? _That_ was a laughable notion. _Did he want you to emulate him?_ Yes, he had said. He thought of all that that word meant and he wasn't sure if she would understand. But she'd shared something with him and he realized that sharing wasn't a take thing in her universe, it was a give-and-take thing. "I placed second in the inter-school tennis cup when I was twelve," he said and his voice was devoid of emotion; his gaze came to a rest on a spot on the far wall of the nurse's room. "He didn't attend the ceremony."

She looked up in a sudden flush of shock. "Pardon?"

"He didn't let Mina attend it either." He had almost forgotten about that. Like he had almost forgotten that he had been sole finalist whose parents hadn't been there for the awards. Like he'd almost forgotten about a lot of things. Almost. "He told her I wasn't allowed to play tennis again. She didn't tell me so he had his workers discard my tennis equipment in front of me."

His voice was calm and very, very even. He felt neither on the inside. He wasn't sure what had made him tell her and he was certain that he would regret it later. But he didn't regret it right then. Not with her there. Her hand came to a rest on his and when he turned his head to look at her, her eyes were like blue glass, brilliant and clear.

"If I said I were sorry, it would mean I wish things had been different. That you were someone else. I don't.." Her hand curled around his in an action that was inadvertent, almost protective. "I don't wish you were someone else."

His eyes dipped to meet hers. Their was silence between them and it stretched like a haze until -

"I know." He said. "I _am_ better than sex."

Her mouth fell open. "How on _earth_ did you become Student Council President?"

A grin curved his mouth. "And you." He rested his head against the bedpost and met her gaze as if their conversation had never involved what he had told her about the tennis match. "When did you realize your life would revolve around tomatoes and tomato soup?"

"The same time you decided yours would revolve around manipulation and narcissism."

He felt his lips tug into a grin. "Touché."

She rose to her feet to replace the items she had picked, before turning on the faucet and he could see a sliver of her face as the water splashed down on her hands.

"Ishin," he said.

She turned, one eyebrow arched in question.

He held up his bandaged arm. "This can't be the best you can do," he said lazily. "The bandage is unprofessional, I'm sopping wet and -"

She threw a towel at him.

Tora caught it with his other arm with perfect ease. "Did I strike a nerve?" He asked, voice smooth.

"Igarashi?"

The sudden questioning tone caught him off-guard. "Commoner?"

Her eyes narrowed. He'd dropped the towel on to the bed: she picked it up and dumped it on his head. Ignoring the smirk that he responded with, she met his gaze. "Why aren't you helping out with the car-wash?"

"I am." He gave her a very slow, very devilish smile. The kind that reminded her that there were reasons - no matter how superficial - half the female population of Miyabigaoka was head over heels in love with him. "I'm funding it."

She should have seen that coming. Sarakshi resisted the urge to shoot him a_ look_ as she moved towards the door. "You're not _really_ helping out. The car-wash isn't doing as well as it was expected it to." Not enough volunteers. Not enough participants. "There's a whole group of people -" Whole group of _girls_, both volunteers and donors, but he knew that without her having to say it - "Who'd join if you helped out."

There was a moment of total silence. Then -

"You expect me to wash cars?"

"No. I expect you to take off your shirt and attract people to the cause and pretend you're doing something productive like washing cars while at it. You know. The usual." There was enough sarcasm in her voice to have filled up several buckets.

"If you want to see my chest, just say so, Ishin."

Her jaw dropped. "_How_ can you find something suggestive in every single thing I say?"

Tora smirked. "Just reading between the lines."

She muttered something dark under her breath. The tone caused a smirk to flash across his face as he held open the door for her. The sudden blast of air that hit him full in the face when he stepped outside made him realize how cold he was - he'd need to change out of his sopping wet (and rather ruined) shirt as soon as he could.

"Sarakshi!" Tomu's voice rang out in the distance. "I need you here. Now."

She'd forgotten all about_ that_. "Be right there!" She called out. She turned to Tora then, to tell him she was leaving.. and realized he was frowning down at his wet shirt. His hair was tousled and his tie had come undone and the bandage that compressed his wrist gleamed white in the light. She could trace the hard outline of his jaw - the perfect mouth - the hair on his forearm that prickled in the cold.

The dark shadows under his eyes that made her realize he hadn't slept the night before.

Removing the shawl she had been wearing, she stood on tiptoe and draped it around his shoulders, her right hand coming to an inadvertent rest on his elbow.

His eyes flickered; his arm slid around her on impulse, steadying her, holding her in place as she straightened. He looked down and she looked up and for one moment, their gazes held. It felt sudden and breathtaking and like salt and surprise.

Then she stepped back and the moment was gone.

"You should get yourself another shirt," She said, voice so soft it almost wasn't. "You'll catch a cold." Picking up a pail, she turned around to leave.

"Ishin," he said.

She half-turned, the spring breeze causing her hair to streak behind her in a scarlet wave.

"I'll help with the car-wash if you change into one of Linda's swimsuits," he drawled.

Her cheeks flushed pink. Then she set her chin and met his gaze.

"If I were your brain, I'd have moved out a long time," she said sweetly.

Before walking off.

-;-

"He is... helping out."

Seated in a corner of the gigantic school yard - the kind of spot where you could see but couldn't be seen - with a towel thrown around her neck, Sarakshi frowned at the realization that what she had just stated was, well, true. The faint tone of surprise in her voice made Marjani lean forward to follow her gaze.

To see Tora leaning against a car, sponge in hand.

Just as Tora's partner - a tall girl in a bikini top and shorts - gave his ruined t-shirt and undone tie and thoroughly tousled hair a apparent-on-purpose once-over and winked at him.

"If that's what you call helping out," Marjani said drily, resting his back against the wall behind them as he studied the chessboard resting on her lap.

"His being around is.. helpful." Helpful in an attracted-a-gigantic-group-of-rabid-fangirls sort of manner but helpful, nevertheless. Which was, Sarakshi supposed, one of the few reasons Shigure - who was in-charge of the car-wash and who liked to run a disciplined group - hadn't told Igarashi to stop handling all the girls buzzing around him with the kind of charm that was bound to make sure they returned. Often.

"I'm sure it is." Marjani's voice was very, very dry.

She grinned as she took his pawn with her bishop. "I'm glad you came."

His eyes met hers. "Did you doubt I would?"

"Maybe." She gave him an angelic smile.

"Tease."

"Are we still talking about me?"

His lips curved into a smile. "Maybe. Checkmate."

She moved a piece in front of her king. "Whoever sees no other aim in the game than that of giving checkmate to one's opponent will never become a good Chess player," Sarakshi grinned.

"Quoting Euwe doesn't win games, my lady." He knocked her remaining pawn off the chessboard. "Checkmate."

Sarakshi had to laugh. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing if you intend to ask me out."

Her eyes widened. It wasn't the statement - it was the tone. How could something said with such total casualness sound so assertive? She looked down at the chessboard with a frown. "You want to catch a movie?"

There was a pause. Then Marjani cleared his throat.

"Right." He said. "You officially need a break."

Her eyes narrowed in a manner that even Marjani found dangerous.

"I'm not sure our tastes in movies match," he said drily.

"You don't _know_ my taste in movies."

"I know you. Checkmate."

Sarakshi sighed. "Fine." She edged her king out of his Queen's reach. "We can walk into a random cinema. Problem solved."

Marjani's eyebrow rose. "Or I could choose. Me happy _is_ better than neither of us happy."

"No." She rested her head against his shoulder as she moved her king. And realized she shouldn't have made the move. "Random cinema. Random movie. No cheating."

He looked down at the red hair scattered over his shoulder. His hand cupped the back of her head and lifted her face to his. "Sly, aren't you?" He said softly.

Her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. "I wasn't -" She wanted to tell him that she hadn't been attempting to distract him but his thumb brushed her cheek in a stroke that was both sudden and rough and the words died on her lips. A rough hand moved to cup her cheek. Cover it altogether. The chessboard toppled over as his fingers curled around her neck and pulled her close.

"Checkmate," he said against her lips.

And kissed her.

It started slow and that pace - slow - lasted for about three seconds. Perhaps even less. Then there was nothing even remotely slow and everything authoritative and scorching and heated about the kiss. She smelled of car-wash detergent and strawberry-scented shampoo and he could heart her heart pounding - hammering - against him as his hand raised her face to his.

She seemed to have been frozen in place and time; her eyes were round as glass. She could feel the heat rising off him like a fever. The raw strength of his arms around her. Then her hands clenched around his jacket, clutching it He tasted like saffron and Tasmanian pepper, spicy and bitter and sharp and rich. Like the taste of slow-cooked beef, the kind that melts in your mouth -

She pulled back as if burned.

"Don't." She could feel the shock in her voice. Feel it like a flavour in her mouth. It burned down her throat, her chest, her stomach. Her hand rose to touch his hand, the burning one that covered her cheek, and her voice was a whisper, so breathless it almost wasn't. "I don't need -" Not the scorching, all-over-the-place emotions. Not the scorching, all-over-the-place intensity that would leave someone far less caring than she was gasping for breath. He was the one thing solid thing in her life, the dependable, the steady, the sure part. "We can't -"

"Sarakshi," he said.

She looked up and the blood seemed to drain from her face. There was nothing dependable or sure about his expression. His voice was deeper than she had ever heard it; there was a darkness in his eyes that wasn't lust but something far more real and far more intense. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat. She felt like a point in time, too small and too sudden and too, too afraid. For him. For herself. For the pain whatever she said would - had to - bring someone. Her hands cupped his face and lowered his face to hers. "I can't," she whispered. And let go. "I'm sorry."

She rose to her feet.

And met Linda's gaze.

-;-

There were pools of water all around her feet. Her throat felt parched and blocked, like she'd swallowed something that burned all the way down to her stomach. Someone waved to her from the other end of the yard. Sarakshi wasn't sure who - Sora perhaps but she never made sure, just waved back - just aware that her skin felt like it was on fire. Heated and flushed despite the water and the soap suds the flew in all directions.

"Hand me a sponge, will ya?" Linda's voice said from behind.

Sarakshi handed it over without a word. There was a moment of silence in which Linda didn't attempt to catch her eye and Sarakshi still attempted to avoid letting her eye be caught and then she'd bent down to retrieve something she didn't need to retrieve. She straightened up almost at once -

To see the blonde set down her sponge and lean over, her chin resting on the elbows she'd placed on the hood of the car with the kind of sensual laziness that seemed inherent to her. "You look tortured." Her voice was mock amused. "Interesting."

If there was one similarity between Linda and Tora, it was that both of them expressed concern in royally screwed-up manners. Sarakshi did not look up. "Is this even the car you're supposed to be washing?" She asked, her voice clear.

"You on the offensive. Now that's something I haven't heard of before."

Sarakshi set down her sponge and met Linda's gaze. "I'm sorry." Her voice had gone quiet. "I should have told you. I had no right to -"

"You know," Linda interrupted lazily. "The only part I saw was the one where you told him you were sorry. And I'm not going to guess what happened, woman. Consider yourself safe."

"It doesn't have to do with how much you saw or what you guess -"

"So you think you owe me an apology because I didn't see and refuse to guess?"

"We kissed." Sarakshi's voice was flat.

"No." Linda bent down to dip her sponge into a bucket. "_He_ kissed. You. And knowing you -" Her eyes met Sarakshi's. "You walked off because you're stupid enough to be concerned with things such as honour and friendship and not betraying me. You're a fool, Sarakshi Ishin."

"I'm not in love with him," Sarakshi said flatly.

"Then tell him that." Linda's voice was no less flat and much, much more curt. "If it's true, tell him that. Stop being noble. You don't get to walk off on Marjani because you can't think of doing something that hurts me. That's a pathetic excuse, especially for you. If you're going to turn him down, it had better be because you aren't in love with him. Not because of some excuse that means you don't have to confront your own feelings. Because if he kisses me and I know you're in love with him -" Her eyes locked with Sarakshi's. "I'm not going to walk off for you. And no." She dropped the sponge; her six-inch heels clicked as she wheeled around to leave. "This isn't the car I'm supposed to be washing."

The spring breeze caused the sprinkle of fair hair on her hands to stand on end. Sarakshi saw the cascade of Linda's perfect blonde hair with a sudden clarity, the trimmed ends that shone in the sunlight.

"You're lying," she said.  
><em>Because you would walk off for me. Every single time.<em>

Linda froze. Then she half-turned, so that Sarakshi saw her in side-profile, the curled lashes, the flat stomach, the tips of her sleek red heels.

"At least I'm not lying to myself," she said.

Left.

-;-

There was nothing even remotely lie-like about it. _Nothing_. Sarakshi's knuckles were white against the rim of the bowl of soup as she set it down.

The ring of the phone sent her jumping in the air.

She leaned down to pick it up.. and blinked. The caller ID read Takihara Fenshani. "Takihara?" She could feel the surprise in her voice. He hadn't called her since... he'd _never_ called her.

"Red?"

"Did you just invent me a nickname for me on the spot?"

She could hear the grin in his voice when he spoke and she realized it would never fail to amaze her how much of a change it - the transparency of his emotions - was. "You never know. I could have been waiting for an excuse to use it."

"You're not trying to flirt with me, are you?"

"You never stop asking questions, do you?"

The cheerfulness in his voice had that rare infectious quality to it. She smiled. "What's the matter?"

"Book Fair. Six o' clock. There's a bunch of us going. You wanna come along? I've heard it's fun. Just sayin'."

She almost said no. Almost. But she needed a break. Some time with people who weren't the people she was around all the time. "Sure." She paused. "Who else is coming?"

"Kurumi and Kouma. I'm not a bore, you know."

"I know you aren't." She half-smiled. "See you, Takihara."

-;-

Sarakshi realized she might have made a mistake the moment she stepped through the arch that was the entrance. She had never been good with crowds and - unlike the book fairs she tended to attend - this one was packed to the seams.

_Take deep breaths. Take deep breaths. You'll be fine -_

"You alright?" Kurumi asked.

"Yes." Sarakshi gave a rueful little smile. "It's just that I tend to not like crowds."

"The crowd should thin once we get inside." Kouma's voice was polite as ever. "It's just the entrance and the nearest exhibits that tend to be this crowded."

"That's good to hear." Sarakshi gave him a smile. Which was wiped off her face when she stepped inside and was reminded - almost at once - that she wasn't clear of the entrance and its surrounding exhibits _yet_. The crowd swept her and the others off, pushing, jostling, restricting.

"Kouma and I are heading in that direction!" Kurumi jabbed a finger towards an exhibit in the distance. "There are a few books I need to get. We'll meet you two up here in fifteen minutes at the most. Is that fine?"

Sarakshi nodded. It was easier to let the crowd to take herself and Fenshani in whatever direction than struggle to reach a particular exhibit like Kurumi and Kouma, so she allowed herself to be swept off.

"I wasn't expecting so much of a crowd." Fenshani's voice sounded behind her.

"Me neither." She grinned up at him. "I didn't know you read."

"Is that an artfully-hidden insult?"

She felt laughter bubble up her throat. "No. I honestly didn't think you were the book-reading type."

"I'm not." Fenshani grinned.

She blinked. "But you agreed to come when Kurumi asked?"

He tilted his head to one side. "It's called hanging out with friends. Sometimes also referred to as having fun. It's this thing most of us normal people do."

She grinned. "That _is_ an artfully-hidden insult."

"I wouldn't dare."

"I hope you aren't expecting me to believe you."

His lips tugged up. "I'm not. Though I have to admit -" His smile widened - "I wouldn't have come if there had been nothing in store of me."

She arched a questioning eyebrow. Fenshani pointed ahead of them in response, and Sarakshi looked up to see a beautiful girl with teal-coloured hair tied in two long ponytails painted on the wall in front of them. The words "Supreme giveaway! Free tickets! Backstage passes!" were painted next to her. She opened her mouth to comment - and the crowd jostled her. Hard.

She caught her balance as the people around her spilled into several halls and began to scatter. Breathing a sigh of relief at the return of her personal space, she turned to look at Fenshani.. and realized he wasn't there.

_We must have been separated when I got jostled._ She craned her neck to look for the familiar tangle of black hair and sparkling eyes but he was nowhere to be seen. So she did the one thing that seemed quite natural to her and, cupping her hands around her mouth, raised her voice to call out: "Takihara!"

The response this elicited wasn't quite the response she had expected. Two dozen people turned to stare at her as if she were insane.

None of whom were Fenshani.

Cheeks turning a light shade of pink, Sarakshi dug into her bag for her cellphone.. and realized she didn't have it. _Just my luck_. Unless she wanted to announce her location over the Book Fair intercom - which seemed a tad foolish at the moment - it looked like she was on her own. Her expression slipped into a frown as she inspected the various exhibits that surrounded her.

Until it fell on a board that made her eyes brighten.

-;-

"_This_ is what you and Maki intended to do tonight?"

There was a cold kind of suspicion in Kaon's voice as she looked down at all the books stacked in front of her. Tora picked one up and flipped it open. "Of course. I tend to read -" He turned the book over to read the author's name. "Haruki Murakami extensively. His work is delightful."

Kaon's eyes narrowed. "Is he bluffing again?" She asked Maki.

"I have no idea," Maki said smoothly.

"YOU'RE JUST AS USELESS AS -"

"Now, now, Kaon." Tomu's smirk as he chucked his twin under the chin was his usual devilish one. "You were the one who insisted on accompanying them to wherever they were going tonight."

"Indeed," Tora drawled. "You were the one who couldn't bear to be separated from my stunning persona for so much as a moment."

"What?" Kaon spluttered. She turned on Tomu. "I did not! I'd throw Edward in a river before I can't bear to be separated from someone as arrogant as him!"

"You mean Edward is at the bottom of some river?" Tora asked. "I had no idea that bear you're carrying is a replacement. I do offer my condolences."

"YOU -"

With a smirk, Tora leaned down to pick up a textbook on purpose to show her that her words couldn't matter less.. and spotted a shock of scarlet hair in the distance.

Scarlet hair he'd know anywhere.

He set the book down with a soft _thud_.

"I almost forgot." He gave Kaon a pointed smile. "There's a call I have to make. If you'll excuse me for a few minutes."

"Oh no, you don't." How much of a fool did he think she was? It was as unlike Tora Igarashi to forget he had business to attend to as it was unlike a cat to forget it liked fresh milk. She caught the back of his shirt. "This is a date, Igarashi. You're not going anywhere without me."

"Fine." The fact that he had given up with such ease made Kaon's eyes narrow. He turned around to face her and his eyes flickered in quizzical surprise.

"What?" She demanded.

"Your life-partner has a tear." He nodded towards Edward.

Life-partner? Her eyes widened. "WHAT? Where?" She looked down at the bear her right arm was wrapped around.. and the foolishness of her action seemed to hit her full in the face like a gust of cold, cold air. Feeling like steam would blow right out of her ears any moment, Kaon looked up - and wasn't surprised to see that he was no longer in sight.

"You're just going to waste your time if you follow him." Maki's smile was still in place. "He'll be back when he wants to be."

"He and I." Kaon's gorgeous eyes were narrowed in equal parts determination and anger. "Had a deal. If you think I'm going to let him not keep his part of it - you're an _idiot_. Tomu! Come with me right now!"

-;-

He found her in a one of the lesser-known exhibits. Her face was turned away from him; he could see nothing but the corner of one full pink lip and one curious blue eye underneath the curtain of red hair. She was standing on tiptoe to reach a book and as he stepped closer, he realized which book it was.

"I had no idea you still read these," Tora drawled, removing the book she was reaching for from the shelf in one graceful movement. "Figures. Your actions seem to coincide with the mental age books like these require."

She whirled around in a flurry of red hair, lips parted, eyes narrowed. "Please tell me this is a nightmare."

He flipped the book open with his thumb, its spine resting in the palm of his left hand. "Once upon a time, there was a little girl who always wore a red cape whenever and wherever she went," he read in polished tones. "For that reason, she was called "Little Red Riding Hood." He held the book up with a smirk. "There are pictures if you don't understand."

Sarakshi snatched the book back from him. "I'm not getting it for myself," she snapped. "Though -" Her eyes narrowed. "It would be none of your business if I were."

"There's no need to be embarrassed," he said, voice smooth. "I'm sure we all have our secrets."

"Right. This isn't a nightmare. Even my imagination can't make you as bad as you are."

He leaned down. "You have no idea how true that is," he whispered. "I am... very, very good at being bad."

Her eyes widened. He saw - felt - her pulse flutter with sudden rapidness and then she had shoved him back. "Idiot," she muttered.

His smirk would have put the devil to shame. "So who is the book for?" He asked. "Takihara?"

Her cheeks were still flushed red and when she crossed her arms against her chest in an almost defiant manner, he wanted to press her into the shelf and kiss her until she melted into his arms and moaned his name into his mouth.

"I'm buying them for Raito," she said, looking down at the open book. Which looked back at her with a coloured picture of the wolf following Little Red Riding Hood.

"The kid next door," he said.

She blinked. "How do you know?"

"It's called research, Ishin. I know the names of your neighbours. The maids you work with. The relatives you don't meet -"

"I think we get the point." Her voice was cool. "You're a stalker with a lot of resources and time to waste."

Had she even realized she'd been backed into the corner where the two shelves met? Tora doubted she had. He leaned down. "I call it circling my prey," he breathed.

She ignored him as she tucked the book under an arm and reached up for another. "Which one do you think I should get him?" She asked. She held up the other book - the word _Goldilocks_ met his eyes in giant golden letters - her eyes curious.

He touched the book under her arm. "This one."

"_Red Riding Hood_?" She tilted her head to one side. "Why?"

"The colour of her hood..." His eyes lingered on her hair. "Fascinates me."

"Right." She replaced_ The Little Red Riding Hood and Ten Other Stories_ and tucked _Goldilocks_ under her arm. "_Goldilocks_ it is."

He felt the shadow of a smile flicker across his face. "You read," he said.

"Doesn't everyone?" Back to him as she browsed through another shelf, her tone was conversational. There was nothing cool, nothing pretentious - nothing _forced_ - about it.

"Outside of schoolbooks," he said drily.

"Oh." She knelt down to examine a book. "Yes." She half-turned and tilted her head to one side. "Do you?"

The question caught him off-guard. It ought to have been a simple question. It _would_ have been a simple question if it hadn't been him it had been directed at. He was used to asking the questions. Hearing the answers. He wasn't used to being asked the questions and having to give the answers. He could deflect it - he almost did. Almost.

But not quite.

He dropped down next to her. His fingers grazed the hard edge of colourful books as he spotted one he remembered from a long long time back and handed it to her to see. "Sometimes." He looked up and realized she was looking at him with frank curiosity. Waiting for him to elaborate. It irritated him, a vague sort of irritation. "Often," he corrected.

"What?" She asked as she gathered the books she'd selected in her arms and walked over to the counter.

He smiled a devilish smile. "You don't want to know."

"Don't joke about books!" When he continued to smirk, her eyes narrowed. "What we read becomes part of who we are. Only the weak-minded refuse to accept that words have the power to change us."

"Mishima," he cut across her. "Kawabata. Corporate literature."

Her eyes widened at the sudden interruption. Mishima. Kawabata. There was something sudden - something intimate - about knowing what and who he read. She turned to him as she came to a halt outside another shop and he saw that there was a frown in her eyes. "Don't you find it somewhat confusing?" She asked.

"Corporate literature?"

She nodded.

"No, Ishin. But I have no doubt you do. It does have to do with intelligent people."

She stared at him. "With an attitude like that, how on _earth_ do you score dates?"

He leaned down to rest his lips against her ear. "I could show you," he murmured against her heated skin.

"Personal space." Her breath hitched and her cheeks burned but when she raised her gaze to meet his, it was as unfazed as her voice. Which was, it went without saying, all sarcasm. "Noun. The physical space immediately surrounding an individual, into which any encroachment feels threatening or uncomfortable to them."

"Seduce." He smirked. "Verb. Entice someone into wanting to give up their personal space."

How could he twist dictionary _definitions_ to suit his own purposes? She threw her hands up in the air. "Fine. You win. I lose. Now go away."

She'd turned her back to him to pick up a book. He looked down her shoulder to see the title printed on it. It was... a cookbook. "You're going to buy that?" He asked, one eyebrow arched.

"Why? What do you propose I buy? 101 Ways to Make Other People's Lives Miserable?"

"No. But you could start with this." He let go of the book he had plucked off the shelf. She caught it reflexively, glancing down at its cover the moment she did... and turning the brightest shade of scarlet he'd ever seen her turn. He supposed it figured, considering that the cover featured a shirtless man and a bare-backed and very curvaceous woman, with said woman's hands knotted into said man's hair and her expression one of... rather indescribably ecstasy. The title _Pleasure for Pleasure_ was printed beneath the image in dark blue font.

"What the -" The book fell to the floor with an audible _thud_ as she took a flustered step back, her cheeks burning scarlet. "You - I -"

"What's the matter, Ishin?" His hand came to a rest next to her head as her back met the corner where the two shelves met. He could feel the heat radiating off her like a fever and smell the saline scent of new books and old dust. He wanted to lean down and touch his lips against the hollow of her throat. Brush them down the curve of her shoulder. Taste the flavour of the scents on her skin. "Did I shock your delicate sensibilities?"

"Sarakshi?" a cheerful voice called out. "You here?" He stepped back with a smirk and an air of perfect nonchalance just as Fenshani's face loomed into view. "There you are!" The black-haired teen exclaimed. Then he noticed the figure standing next to her. "Igarashi? Why are you here?"

"Unlike you, Takihara, there are those of us who know how to read," Tora drawled.

"He means he's pleased to see you too," Sarakshi said, voice cool and spots of pink still visible on her cheeks. "I couldn't find you after the crowd separated us. How did you know where I was?"

"I asked a couple of salespeople." Fenshani smiled that crooked boyish smile that was so natural to him. "Your hair colour makes it easier for people to remember. The salesman in the next shop said he'd seen you enter this one a few minutes ago. What are you getting?"

"Just a couple of books for a kid I know." She held up the paper-bag for him to see. "I'm done here."

"Have you seen the Takanashi exhibit? You should see it. They've got -" Fenshani's eyes caught the glimmer of the book on the floor. He could see the hard edge; the shadows that slanted into the corner made it impossible for him to see the cover. "I think you dropped a book. Here, let me get that for you."

"No, I'll pick it up -"

"It's fine." Fenshani took a step towards the book and Tora saw her eyes widen as she realized that one step forward, and Fenshani would see the cover. He could almost hear the cogs in her mind whirring at breakneck speed as she decided there had to be a way to make sure Fenshani never saw her near a book like that -

Tora flipped the novel over with his shoe with perfect ease.

"She said she'd pick it up." He drawled, stepping in front of the book as if it were the most natural thing on earth to do. Which it did seem to be - and Tora was more than just aware of that - when he did it. "Retrieving it isn't going to score you a date with her."

The faintest tinge of colour passed across Fenshani's face. "There's a thing called chivalry."

"There's also a thing called rough, wild sex but I bet you've never come across that, have you?

Fenshani choked. "_Tora_!" He spluttered.

"What happened about your giveaways?" Sarakshi said. Her cheeks were scarlet but her voice was firm and he could tell she couldn't decide whether she was grateful to him for distracting Fenshani or mad at _how_ he was achieving that objective. No matter - he'd make sure she remembered she had a lot to be grateful for. Make sure she remember she owed him for this.

Fenshani looked up at her. "It was a bit of a disappointment." He ran his hand through his tangled of sleek black hair - against the jet-black shade, his hand looked whiter than usual. "They were giving out free tickets and backstage passes to every tenth person to walk into the shop and make a purchase." He made a wry face. "I was the ninth."

"You can always go back in and make another purchase." Sarakshi's voice was soothing.

"Oh no. I got the tickets." Fenshani reached into his pocket and held up two blue tickets. "Tada!"

"Tada?" Tora repeated, one eyebrow raised. The last time he'd heard that word, the speaker had been a six year old. Understandably. "Seriously?"

"Oh come on." Fenshani's voice was stiff. "It's a phrase of celebration."

"For six year olds -" Tora began sarcastically. Only for that little chit of a girl to step on his foot. Hard. The beginnings of devilish grin flickered across his face. "I'm going to remember you did that," he whispered. Her eyes widened and she stepped back so hastily, she dropped the bag she'd been holding. Fenshani - not quite sure what had happened - hastened to pick it up for her.

"How did you manage to get the tickets?" He could hear the slight unevenness in her voice as she asked the question in an attempt to bring things back to normal.

Fenshani smiled a very wicked smile. "I talked the saleswoman into tweaking the rules a little."

"You flirted with her," Sarakshi said drily.

"Resourceful," Tora smirked. "It seems the Dumb Jock of the Year award will have to go to someone else, after all."

"He means ethically unsound," Sarakshi said, her voice dry.

"No." Tora met her gaze, his own oh-so-amiable. "I mean resourceful. When I mean ethically unsound, I say, 'Almost as good as what I'd have done.'"

Fenshani grinned. "I'm sure that's true. After all, the fundamental difference between you and me _is_ that I'm resourceful."

"Congratulations, Takihara. You finally managed to think of a successful comeback. Now the Dumb Jock of the Year award can go to someone else next year, too."

"Stop it," Sarakshi snapped as Fenshani opened his mouth to respond. "Both of you. I don't care how satisfying this word war is to your egos, but you aren't having a go at each while I'm around."

Tora slid a casual arm around her waist. "Would you rather I have a go at you?" He breathed.

"I said." She took a hold of his hand and twisted it behind his back. "_Be quiet_."

Her eyes were ablaze. His eyes dipped from them to the full lips beneath them. It would be so easy to turn the fire in her gaze into a different one altogether.. "Dominating," he said, his voice husky. "How sexy."

She dropped his hand so fast, he'd have missed the action if it had been someone else's hand she had had twisted into place. Turning her back on him, she met Fenshani's uncertain gaze.

"Where was the coffeehouse you were talking about again?" She asked.

-;-

"He... followed us here."

Kurumi looked up from the mug of steaming coffee she was stirring to meet Sarakshi's gaze. "He has a date." Her voice was an attempt at sounding soothing. "I'm sure it's just coincidence."

Sarakshi resisted the urge to throw a very, very dirty look at the table where Tora and his "date" - it was impossible to tell who it was but Sarakshi could see large, dark eyes underneath the hood the girl had pulled up - were seated. Where Tora Igarashi was concerned, there _was_ no such thing as coincidence. And the worst part of it was that he could make his planned moves seem so natural, you wouldn't know a breath was amiss until you knew him well.

Which she did.

"We could move." Fenshani's voice was bright. "Go to a different place."

"No," Sarakshi said firmly. The last thing she wanted was to give him the satisfaction that he'd driven her off. She was_ not_ going to lose this battle. She pushed the stirrer around in her coffee. "Let's just... forget he's here."

"Did any of you see Hideki Ryuga's new movie?" Kurumi asked. "It's getting rave reviews. Except that a certain someone -" Her eyes flickered towards Kouma. "Doesn't get the time to take me to the movies."

The movies. _You want to catch a movie?_ Marjani, she thought and the thought hurt. He hadn't attempted to contact her since she had pulled back - she hadn't attempted to contact him. She felt a strange sort of weight in the pit of her stomach; like a block of lead suffocating her from the inside. _Do you love him?_ He'd asked. _Yes,_ she'd said. _I love him._ And she did. She loved him so much, the very thought of it left her breathless. But loving someone didn't mean being in love with them. She'd never thought of - she _could_ never think of -

_You don't get to walk off on Marjani because you can't think of doing something that hurts me. That's a pathetic excuse, especially for you. If you're going to turn him down, it had better be because you aren't in love with him. Not because of some excuse that means you don't have to confront your own feelings._

Her eyes widened. "I'm going to.." She looked up at the people seated around the table. "I'll be back in a minute."

"You alright?" Fenshani asked.

"Yeah. I'm just going to.." She motioned towards the souvenir shop that was part of the coffeehouse. "Take a look at those. There's something that caught my eye."

"Want me to come along?" Kurumi offered.

"It's fine." She gave the brunette a brilliant smile. "You enjoy your coffee."

"I'll make sure no one hijacks your cup of coffee till you come back," Fenshani grinned.

"Thanks."

She rose to her feet. She could hear the orchestra fade into a new song and the music accompanied her to the souvenir shop. She felt distracted. Nervous even. _If you're going to turn him down, it had better be because you aren't in love with him. Not because of some excuse that means you don't have to confront your own feelings._ The song sounded like something out of a dream, layers of faint lyrics all run into each other, and it didn't help. It reminded her of the rough edge in his voice - and it was almost too deep to be true - when he'd whispered Checkmate against her lips. Of the dizzying darkness in his eyes when she'd clutched his jacket. And the shock. The sudden, mind-numbing, earth-shattering shock when she'd pulled back, out of breath and flushed, and told him she couldn't and their eyes had met and the world seemed to have died and gone to hell several times over.

"You seem dazed, Ishin. Thinking of me again?"

Tora's voice behind her made her turn around. Which was when she realized she'd walked out of the coffeehouse through the exit at the back. She couldn't remember stepping out of the souvenir shop but it must have had to do with the music. The damn music. "Did you just ditch your date so that you could irritate me?" She asked incredulously.

"Watching you ditch yours for a stroll outside seemed like an interesting twist to the tale."

"I don't _have_ a date."

"Tsk tsk tsk. Such terrible lies, _Red_."

"I didn't ask him to call me that," Sarakshi said crossly.

"You didn't ask him to _not_ call you that either."

"It's a nickname. It shows affection. There's nothing wrong with it."

"Of course not." His smile was too nice to be true. "What happened to you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're distracted. You left your friends. You walked out of that souvenir shop in a daze and ended up outside without being aware of where you were going. I'd say you have a pretty good idea what I'm talking about."

"On the contrary, I -" She break off at the sound of a sudden - and rather inhuman - yelp. "What was that?"

"Fangirls?" Tora suggested lazily. "Mine, of course."

"It sounded like an animal." There was no humour in her voice as she whirled around. "It came from over there -" She turned the corner and her eyes rounded. There was a rather large cat squatting on the ground, its fur standing on end, its mouth open in a snarl as a boy - He couldn't have been more than fourteen - approached it with a stick.

"What do you think you're doing?" She demanded.

The boy turned. He had a shock of black hair and rather mean eyes. When he spoke, his voice was hostile. "Excuse me?"

"What do you think you're doing?" There was a mixture of shock and incredulity in Sarakshi's tones.

"I'd have thought that much would be clear to a two year old." He held up the stick. "Hunting," he said, his lips curling into a sneer.

Sarakshi stared. It was apparent hunting was just his dressed-up term for the fact that he was attempting to scare and hurt a cat. But how on earth could someone be that _stupid_? "You're hurting a cat," she said, voice still incredulous. "How old are you?"

The boy's eyes flickered to a point behind her. It took Sarakshi a moment to realize he was looking at Tora. "She with you?" He jabbed a finger towards her. "I don't know what her problem is but -"

"Of course not." Tora said smoothly. "I have no idea who she is."

Her eyes widened. She whirled around with a murderous glare... and met his signature smirk. How could anyone be so _infuriating_? The sound of a cat-snarl distracted her before she could think of venting her anger, however. She spun on the heels of her flats to see the stick come in contact with the cat's head. That was it. She grabbed the boy's arm so fast, he didn't even realize what hit him. "You." She pushed him up against a wall. "Have issues."

"What the hell do you think you're doing -"

"You're hurting an animal. What the hell do _you_ think you're doing?"

"Woman -" He attempted to break free. "You." He tossed his head in Tora's direction. "Get her off me. She's out of her senses."

Tora looked highly entertained. "I do agree," he said, inspecting his glove.

The boy's eyes narrowed. "Do you know who I am?" His voice was thunderous. He jabbed his head towards the coffeehouse. "My father owns that place. He's going to have you locked up for this -"

"Give me that." Sarakshi snatched the stick from him and broke it into two on her knee. The boy's eyes widened - the first hint of fear in his arrogant exterior. She stepped back. "Now get out of here before I go inside and tell your father."

The boy took several steps backwards. Towards the coffeehouse. He reached the door and turned. "I'm going to have you lock -"

"You know." Sarakshi's voice was very, very calm. "I can break more than just sticks."

"I'll - I'll have you arrested for this!" He fled into the coffeehouse.

She could feel the anger inside of her beginning to drain off. She looked around for the cat but it had taken its chance and run. Tossing the broken pieces of the stick into a garbage can, she looked up... to see Igarashi leaning against the far wall. Watching her with amusement in his eyes.

"Thank you for all the help." Her voice was cool. "I don't know how I could have stopped him without you."

His grin was all sharp white teeth. "You didn't need my help."

"Not that you offered." She shot him a dirty look. Wiping her hands on the cloth of her shorts, she swept past him to reach the door of the coffeehouse. She needed to make sure the boy's father at least _knew_ his son went around hurting defenseless animals. Her hand closed around the doorknob -

"You'd have hated it if I'd helped."

The sound of his voice right behind her caused Sarakshi to still. His hand covered hers on the doorknob to make sure she didn't open it. "You value your independence as much as I value mine. If I'd stepped in, you'd have taken it to mean I didn't believe you could have handled one over-the-top bully yourself." The grip of his hand over hers disappeared as he removed it. The sudden loss of contact made her eyes widen. "The last person you wanted help from is me, commoner."

"That's not -" But it was true. She could feel the cloth of his shirt against her back; the contact made her feel panicked in ways she hadn't thought she could feel panicked. She turned around to face him and her eyes widened when she realized how close he was. She attempted to step back - and her back met the hard wood of the door.

"Which reminds me." In the shade, his golden eyes looked so dark, they could almost have been brown. "You owe me for that little incident at the book fair."

"I don't -" She shook her head, as if that could clear the haze. "Don't kid me! You picked that book in the first place! It's _your_ fault you had to make sure Takihara didn't see it! You can't -"

He leaned down and bit her lower lip.

He'd planned to shock her. See her cheeks flush in embarrassment and her expression change into livid fire. But her breath hitched in a sudden sort of panic that made him go still. He felt it in the sudden flutter of her pulse, the sudden widening of her eyes. This close, he could catch the scent of her perfume and it caused him to lose whatever iota of control he'd convinced himself he did have.

"Get off me this insta -" She looked up and froze.

There was nothing like composure in his eyes, just darkness, a consuming, dizzying kind of darkness that almost scared her because it was so open, so unhidden, so _real_. She felt her heart squeeze and burst into thousands of pieces. "Igarashi?" She said, voice uncertain.

He leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth with a kind of gentleness he hadn't known he was capable of. He felt her shudder under him and his heart seemed to turn over. And it hit him with a sense of realization so strong he almost lost his breath, that he wanted to hold her. He wanted her to look at him like she looked at Marjani, and more. He wanted her to call him Tora. He wanted her to lean against his chest without having to think about it. He wanted her to slip her hand in his and leave it there. He wanted her lips to be his. He wanted to hold her and, the realization hit him like lightning, he wanted her to hold him.

He pulled back and his face was no longer readable - a mask again, all composure - and he saw that her eyes were large and full of shock.

Leaning down, he brushed the back of his thumb, rough and padded, across the tiny smudge of chocolate on the side of her mouth.

Then he raised it to his mouth and licked it.

"You should eat chocolate more often," he drawled.

And left as if nothing had ever happened.

-;-

Life stunned her.

There were dim shadows and dimmer darkness in the apartment. Sarakshi flicked the switch and light flooded into the lounge. She curled up on the couch, one arm curled under her head, one holding a giant pillow close to herself. The pillow smelled of her perfume and the scent was warm and comfortable and familiar.

Familiar.

Unlike everything else going on in her life.

Her phone rang. She extended her hand to pick it up... and then let her hand drop. The week had been too confusing. She felt like she was on edge. Like she would explode at any given moment.

And she wasn't sure what she felt anymore.

Rising to her feet, she pushed open the door of her bedroom. The lights were on, milk-white illumination that melted on the furniture. Her lips puckered into a frown; she didn't remember not extinguishing them before she had left. With a shrug at all the disorder in her life these days, she took a few steps towards the shower - and stopped.

There was a book lying on top of her pillow and she knew that - no matter how disorderly her life was - she couldn't have put it there because she _never_ left her books scattered. Footsteps quick, she walked over to the bed and picked the book up.

And felt the blood spill hot up in her face until the blush that took over it seemed to be sending heat coursing to the very tips of her toes.

Elegant, dimly scented, inside the most beautiful golden dust jacket she'd ever seen.

It was a copy of _Pleasure for Pleasure_.

* * *

><p>x<p>

Phew. All done. I loved writing the Sarakshi/ Marjani kiss in this chapter and it has to be one of those rare bits of my own writing that I actually like.

Speaking of which... Don't kill me *hides from everyone* but I can't say I've decided/ am certain who _I_ want Sarakshi with. So I wanted to ask. What camp is everyone? Do people want her with Tora? Or Marjani?

I expect things to get drama-y in the next chapter. I'm going to say it'll be up in two weeks, April 17, and I will try to put it up sooner. But just in case it takes a little longer.. Gomen? :(

Other stuff I should mention before I forget: the chapter title comes from Muse's utterly gorgeous song, Supermassive Black Hole. The actor Kurumi mentioned (Hideki Ryuga) comes from the imaginations of the wonderful Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata of _Death Note_. _Pleasure for Pleasure_ is the title of an actual Regency Romance by Eloisa James though the cover image of the actual novel is somewhat different (and a lot more tasteful). XD

Thank you to Tora fan, Bebe 17, Animefangirl95, Ch3nya, fateMoon, Joy-logy, SEIRINNE, echizenochi, ChuGaEun, Wildfly, yuukuzuri, tatums, LunaAlchemist27, QueenieIzzy, Twillk, Naina, Maidsamafangirl, Nami Mon'Ami, TennisMaiden, Shark's Fin, Nusu-chan, jin, ShrutI, Sushi Eater and everyone else who reviewed/ subscribed/ favourited. You guys are the best readers anyone can ever have. =)

an chan ran. Thank you. And I do think he needs her. Tora is... emotionally withdrawn and very careful. Sarakshi is very transparent and very reckless. They both compensate for what the other doesn't have.

crying angel. Y u cries? :( Oh and. I don't knoow. Five? Not less than four, at any rate.

Jeight. :3 :3

Aishwarya. Haha. Yay for awesome welcome! And Marjani.. Nineteen? Twenty? I was never able to choose between the two. Go with what you like better? XD

SGTC's Fallen aLien. Yes and no. Marjani is an Indian name. Sarakshi was something I made up myself. I later Googled it and found that it means Dream/ Someone with misty eyes. Of course, it could be/ probably IS that I'd come across it at some point much earlier on and it was in my subconscious. Butt I don't _consciously_ remember having heard of it when I chose it for Sarakshi.

ultimate end Xx and Luphie. Thank you for your reviews. I was worried about the interactions being somewhat unbalanced myself. I hope I've managed to rectify that a little. =)

sweetykitty. Hehhe. You haz point there. Sarakshi Suoh does sound cuute. :3 Though.. I can't think of Sarakshi as Sarakshi Suoh. Or as Sarakshi anything-other-than-Ishin. I think it has something to do with the fact that she's sixteen and I can't imagine her with a married name all of a sudden. O_o *is a weird person* ANDD. I actually like the sound of Linda Suoh. Though to be honest, if Linda ever marries, I have doubts she would change her last time. I can't see it happening in my head. O.o

I'm so glad you find Sarakshi someone you can relate to in real life. =) It's amazing how sometimes fictional characters can touch our lives like that. *feels honoured* And yees. She did have a boyfriend. I'll try to sprinkle a few more details about him in the fic. =)

aika. Hihi. I'm glad you likee. :3

yae ha chun bi rak. I think apologizing when she believes she's in the wrong is in Sarakshi's nature. But more than that, she realizes that Tora hurts people when he's hurt himself. She thinks she can control that so - Sarakshi being Sarakshi - that's also what she was attempting.

You get cookies if you

v


	23. romance and all its Strategy

**** chapter twentythree  
><strong>**

**romance and all its STRATEGY.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>x<p>

"IGARASHI!"

Maki looked up at the sound of Tora's name - spoken in the most thunderous tones he had ever heard a girl use - to see a small tower of rage headed towards the table he was seated at. His eyes flickered towards Tora. "What did you do this time?"

Tora stirred his coffee, his manner nonchalant. "I have no idea."

Maki smiled. It was not a smile of humour. "I guess we're about to find out." He was cut off as the furious figure approached their table in a fierce whirl of red hair and grabbed the front of Tora's shirt.

"You." Sarakshi's voice was cold.

"Ishin." Tora's voice was all of a purr. "What a pleasant surprise. Allow me to pull up a chair for you."

"Get up." Her voice was livid; she did not seem bothered that the entire cafeteria was watching (and a good number of the girls looked anything but amused at the fact that she had his hands on him).

"Your hands." Tora smiled a sharp smile up at her. He could see one of Edward's stuffed hands in the not-so-far distance - it was obvious that Kaon had stepped into the cafeteria and come to a halt at the entrance. "Take them off. Unless of course -" His smile mellowed on purpose - "You find that hard to do."

Her grip around his shirt loosened. "Get up," she hissed so that no one but him would be able to hear. "Now."

She was breathing like she had run a marathon - he could see the furious rise and fall of her chest underneath the loose jacket of her uniform. He rose to his feet with impeccable elegance. "I'm assuming you can keep her occupied for a few minutes, Kanade."

Maki looked up from his plate. "Kaon? Of course."

If Maki added something to his agreement, Tora did not have the chance to hear it - Sarakshi had (to his supreme amusement) grabbed his arm and half-dragged him out of the place before Maki could say anything else. She let go of him the moment the two of them were alone in one of the corridors outside. There were bright pink blotches of colour in her cheek; when she spoke, her voice was displeased.

"_Explain_."

"My, my." Hands in the pockets of his slacks, Tora leaned against the wall with practiced laziness. "Telling you to remove your hands seems to have unbalanced you, Ishin. Who would have thought I had the skill to drive women into despair simply by refusing to let them touch me?"

"_You broke into my house!_"

"How far have you gotten, then?" His hands came to a rest behind his head as a slow smirk spread across his face - the gesture left no room for doubt that he was talking about the book he had left - or rather,_ placed_ - on her bed last night. "Have you gotten to the part where she decides to discard her -"

Her fist met the wall next to his head. "This isn't a game, Igarashi!" Her words were fast and furious and - it occurred to him - almost panicked. "You can't break into my house when I'm not there and pretend you never did! You can't go through my things, _my room_ as if it's all some sort of -"

There was a lump in her throat that belied the fierceness in her voice. He could see her pulse beating in her throat like a wild thing and when he lowered his gaze to smirk at her, the transparency of the emotions in her eyes - anger and disbelief but mostly, mostly, uncertainty, vulnerability - caused him to go still.

"Ishin," he said and his voice was very, very calm.

She looked up at him and he wasn't sure whether it relieved him or drove him insane with concern that she would never have the skill to hide most of the things she felt. Like she couldn't hide the need to fight and be reassured and kick him _hard _and be held_, _all at once, that she felt now. Her hand was still curled next to his head, where she had punched the wall. It left her close to him, close enough that he could trace her lips with his fingers if he wanted to. He had the urge to pull her close to him. It would be so easy to hold her. Protect her. Reassure her.

But, he thought with a cold sort of quietude, all those feelings had always been alien to him.

"Go finish the book," he said. And when he removed her hand to step past her, he added,

"It won't happen again."

-;-

"Umekouji-san."

Kaon Umekouji stopped fiddling with the string of pearls around her neck to find Mr. Maki looking expectantly at her. Her lips curved into an instantaneous smile that hid her actual panicked feelings. She hadn't listened to a word Kanade's father had said in the past five minutes and had no idea _why_ he had addressed her. She shot Tora a furtive look but he was inspecting his gloves. Her eyes narrowed: she _knew_ he was being difficult on purpose. _What was he talking about before I got bored and stopped listening? _He'd been about to leave -

"Maki-san." She inclined her head, hoping against hope that he had been saying his goodbyes. "It's been a pleasure."

The man smiled at her before disappearing into the crowd. Kaon let out a breath of relief... and turned around to face Tora.

"You're doing this on purpose!" She snapped.

Tora looked up from his gloves. "Pardon?" He drawled.

Her eyes flashed. "This whole business is supposed to annoy me, isn't it?" Kaon was aware how much her parents disliked her tendency to throw tantrums at the drop of a hat, but she'd had enough of Tora Igarashi's manipulative methods. "I've been doing all your stupid paperwork and we haven't gone anywhere even remotely important for the entire week -"

"Two business dinners. Two fundraisers." Tora's tones were the epitome of smooth. "I had no idea that wasn't what you wanted, _darling_."

Her cheeks flushed. "Don't call me that!" She snapped. Then she lowered her voice to a hiss. "I refuse to believe this is what things are normally like. That you talk about nothing of consequence at these dinners and events and parties. You're doing this on purpose. Hiding everything that's important from me while I'm cooped up in some idiotic room doing your stupid paperwork -"

Tora's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. Kaon Umekouji might have been an impatient person in general but, when it came right down to it, she believed in satisfaction and revenge both being dishes best served cold. She'd never made an effort to hide her disdain for what she thought was him plotting to make sure she was never anywhere even remotely near information that could harm him (He _had_ been plotting. Except that plotting was such a classless word to express what he did) but for her to show this side of her at a function where her own image was at risk..

"Perhaps you should tell me what you're concealing from me," he drawled.

Her cheeks flushed. "I'm not -"

"You just gave yourself away, Umekouji." He blocked her path when she attempted to push past him with the kind of move that seemed harmless and was anything but. When he spoke, there was a smoothness to his voice that spelled danger. "_Talk_."

Her chin set. "You're vile."

"I've heard that said before." His smile was sharp and all dangerous business. "What's putting you in that foul mood of yours?"

"You playing with my reputation!"

His eyebrow rose. "I wasn't aware you had one to begin with, but even so -"

"This isn't a joke!" Her cheeks were flushed with colour now. "That redhead you were with in the cafeteria this morning -"

It was a mark of how surprised Tora was that he stared at her. For less than three seconds, yes, but stared at her nevertheless. "The commoner? You're miffed because I let a commoner talk to me?"

"I'm miffed because you followed her outside!" The spark of anger in Kaon's eyes almost made her look feverish. "You can't go womanizing around the planet anymore! People think we're dating. I don't want anyone doubting that because it ruins things for both of us!"

"You're lying." Tora's eyes met hers. "To me, of all people. Interesting."

Her eyes flashed. "I'm not -"

"You couldn't care less about ruining things for both of us, Kaon. But you've always been a proud little thing, haven't you? It _would_ kill your mood and patience if someone were to come up to you and suggest that I might be cheating on you."

Her hands clenched. "You have it all wrong -"

He could see the rage in her eyes. Just another nudge, and she would be over the edge with it.. "Who was it, then?" Tora drawled.

"Li Yu Hua, damn it," Kaon snapped. "She had the nerve to suggest you weren't being '_honest_' with me." The heat and anger seemed to radiate off Kaon in waves. "I don't care whether you sleep with a dozen girls or a score but I do care if people know you're doing it while you're claiming to be dating me. There's no need for you to womanize in public. I don't - I don't want to be thought of as foolish or someone who can be taken advantage of!" That was everything she _wasn't_.

But of course. Kaon had enough pride for several people and having someone - anyone - think or worse, suggest that she was being cheated on would wound it in all sorts of manners. "But of course," he said smoothly. "I assume _being_ foolish or someone who can be taken advantage of, however, must be a different matter altogether."

Her eyes flashed. "Neither of us wants to be with each other. But if I keep my end of the deal, you had better keep yours. I couldn't care less who you take home. But if I ever see you waltzing around with another girl in public, Igarashi -" Her eyes met his and he knew that when Kaon meant business, Kaon meant business. And she meant business now. "I'm going to make sure the girl knows whose boyfriend and reputation she's messing with."

-;-

She'd been to his house. Perhaps she shouldn't have been but she had to know if Marjani was alright. The woman she'd been directed to - oriental with large slanting eyes that had reminded Sarakshi of Marjani's at once - had told her he wasn't home.

Sarakshi hadn't left a name.

Clouds covered the skies as she leaned against the wall under the terraced structure of the dojo. She had been allowed inside to take a trial class that she had no intention of taking - the sole reason she was there was to make sure she could catch Marjani as he left - and the lie made her frown down at her hands. _There was nothing else you could have done, _she reminded herself. _Some things are more important than decorum._

It was cool in the shade; cooler than she had expected it to be. She eyed the water-dispenser in the alcove right next to her - two people had come up to it in the past ten minutes though neither had been able to see her - before glancing down at her watch. She knew Marjani wouldn't be done until half an hour. She had a little over that before her own class was supposed to start.

Rubbing a spot on her forearm, she looked up... and realized she knew the dark figure walking towards the dispenser.

"Marjani?"

He turned towards her. If her being there surprised him, she could not see it in his eyes. "Sarakshi," he said and his deep voice was very, very calm.

It felt like ages since she had last seen him. Eons. She wondered if she ought to have messaged him. Called him. But there were some things that had to happen face-to-face and God knew she'd tried to get him to meet her. She looked up at him - did he have to tower over her all the time? - blue eyes just a little widened, and for a moment the world seemed to stop spinning and be still.

"You didn't tell me you were instructing." She said and she wasn't sure how that had come out of her mouth, because she had never intended to ask him that. But then, what _had_ she intended to ask him? "What do the students call you? Sensei?"

He leaned down to set the glass he had picked up back on its counter. For several moments, he did not straighten - she could see the dark hair falling into just-as-dark eyes - and it occurred to her that he was almost dizzyingly handsome. "What do you call your instructor?" He asked without looking at her.

"Sensei." She wasn't sure why there was a lump in her throat. Were the things the same between the two of them as they had always been? Or had something snapped? The spiral of thoughts - the thought that things might have changed, that she might have lost what she had with him - made her stomach tighten. "But that's judo."

"Sensei." He repeated the word and she realized it was in answer to her earlier question - what the karateka called him. He straightened. "I should get going. I'll see you around, Sarakshi."

There were things you did not do inside the boundaries of a dojo. Sarakshi was quite quite aware that touching someone both unnecessarily and outside of a match was one of them.

She caught his forearm.

She wished she hadn't the moment she did. She could feel the ripple of muscles beneath her hand and when he turned around to look at her, the front of his gi was open and she could see his chest - the dark corded muscles, the tip of the jagged scar that ran down them - in the dim light and the blood spilled hot up in her face. His gaze was calm and steady and yet there was nothing tame and everything dangerous about him. It was in the way he moved, the way he spoke, even the way he looked at you. She felt it within herself like a fever - the sense of vulnerability she never felt around anyone else, the kind of vulnerability that came from the stark realization of how easily she could be overpowered if he chose to overpower her.

"I didn't mean to -" But she _had_ meant to, so she did not complete the sentence. "Talk to me," she whispered.

"What about?" His tone was even. "There's nothing to talk about, Sarakshi."

"If there's nothing to talk about, then stop avoiding me!" Her grip on his arm tightened in an almost stubborn manner. "You think I can't tell it when you're running from something -"

"I'm not the one running." His eyes held hers with a slow steadiness that made her eyes narrow stubbornly. "You are."

"I'm not -"

"You kissed me back, Sarakshi. Perhaps you should think about that."

Her eyes widened. And she realized what had changed in the past few days between the two of them, the one new thing that hadn't been there before - it was his bluntness. Marjani had never attempted to make her confront the fact that he was in love her. That she'd refused to think of it because she couldn't bear to think of it. He'd let go of that lax demeanour, the no-questions policy. _If you're not in love with him, tell him. Stop apportioning the blame on me_, Linda had said.

"I'm not in love with you," Sarakshi said, and her voice was very even.

"And if I were to kiss you again," Marjani said, voice level, as if she had never spoken. "You would kiss me back again."

Her eyes flashed. "I would never do that to -"

"But of course." The ghost of an ironic smile tugged up his lips. "Linda. Your favourite new excuse."

"Don't." She felt like shock and salt and disbelief. "Stop trying to be cruel. It isn't you."

"And maybe that's the problem." His free hand removed hers from his arm with a polite, almost cool sort of ease. "Me. Always looking out for what's good for you. This time you don't have that crutch, Sarakshi. Because the next time you tell me you're not in love with me, I want you to be certain about it. The next time you tell me you're not in love with me, I want you to be sure it isn't because you've told yourself you can't and won't think about what we could have because you can't think of betraying Linda. That you mean it."

His eyes met hers.

"You owe me that much," he said.

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to call him but he was gone before she could amass the words to speak.

To say anything.

-;-

The walls of Tora Igarashi's room were painted a subtle cream. Kaon ran a hand along a windowsill - half a smirk lifted the corner of her mouth when her fingers came off spotless. _Not even a speck of dust_.

But then, she would have been surprised if there had been so much as a speck.

She sat on the bed, one leg swung over the other, until she heard his footsteps on the landing outside. Excellent. Rising to her feet with a certain lightness, she walked over to a desk of drawers and began to open and close the drawers. Flip through the notepad on the writing desk. Move a painting or two to peek behind. He'd notice the little signs her mock search would leave - a moved book, a creased curtain, a drawer that wasn't quite closed. But then she wanted him to. That was the reason he'd left her alone in his room after all.

_Did you really think I'd start attempting to find something that could help me drag your name through the mud as soon as you left?_ Her eyes flashed at the thought that he could even entertain the notion that she would be stupid enough to believe his leaving her there on her own wasn't a contrived act. Tora Igarashi would never leave her alone in a room that held something that could disadvantage him, if it came into her hands. Underestimating her was going to be his downfall.

She shut the drawer she had chosen to open with practiced haste as the door swung open, taking care to ensure that he heard the_ click_ of it being closed just before he entered.

"Your car will be here shortly." He smiled a wicked smile at her. The kind that made her want to grit her teeth. "Shall we leave?"

"Of course." She slipped into her shoes and followed him out of the door and down the grand staircase. It irritated her that the trip to the Igarashis' house had been a waste. He'd wanted her to go through his room so.._ If I were Tora, where would I keep important documentation and belongings in such a situation? _She needed a clue. Something. Anything.

"You look dazed, Umekouji."

Kaon looked up through long, curled lashes to see him reach for the fruit basket arranged on the dining table. He tossed a pear to her - she caught it with both hands. "I don't look dazed." She could hear the crabby edge to her voice. In an attempt to tone it down, she said, "Your room's done all in creams. I wasn't expecting that. The ambiance is rather nice."

"It's been my experience that women tend to... enjoy it."

Kaon flushed. "Is that _all_ you think of?"

"No. After all, there's a world of things one can do outside of a bed, too. For example -"

"I don't want to hear it!" Kaon snapped, red-faced.

"I was just going to mention how one can always sleep on a couch," Tora said smoothly. His eyes glinted. "What did _you_ think I was going to say?"

She glared at him. "You're annoying."

"You could at least tweak the things people tell you. You don't have to repeat them word-for-word."

"Whatever. I'm leaving." Kaon marched to the door. Hand on the doorknob, she paused. "You talked to her again, didn't you?" Her voice was almost harsh.

"Depends on which her you're talking about." Tora's voice was a drawl.

She turned around. "The redhead." There was a sharp edge to her voice - he could tell she had been willing herself not to bring the topic up. "You stopped her after school."

"I stop her after school every day." There was a smirk in Tora's voice. "I do believe she likes it."

Kaon's eyes flashed. She hadn't seen him stop Sarakshi, he realized. She'd been told of it and she had - the thought amused him - been banking on him denying he had done so. "I told you not to." He could feel the anger radiating off her; it caused her voice to rise with each other. "Do you realize what -"

"Your car is here." Tora's tone was all lazy smoothness. "Shall I escort you outside?"

Kaon's eyes flashed. "Do _not_ play games with me, Igarashi." There was an edge of steel to her tone. "I'm not as naive or gullible as you think you are. Believe you me, you're going to regret -"

He kissed her.

Her eyes widened. There was a moment of utter silence in which she was aware, very aware, of the silken touch of his perfectly ironed shirt, the scent of his cologne, the presence of his hand next to her head and against the wall. Her chest rose and fell in a quick stroke; then she'd shoved him away.

"What do you think you're doing -"

"You look better when you're kissing me back, Umekouji." Voice a drawl, he held open the door for her. "Shall I escort you outside?"

"You _lecherous_ pervert." Cheeks still flaming and swearing loudly, she grabbed the nearest object she could land her hands on - a tome of some sort - and threw it at him. He caught it with perfect ease. "If you ever even try to touch me again, I swear to God, I will _kill_ you." Bright spots on her cheek, Kaon whirled, stormed out of the door, and into her car.

How dare he - how _dare_ he -

Her fingers touched her lips. For a long, long while, she did not speak.

-;-

"This is boring." Fenshani placed the back of his palm across his mouth to stifle his yawn. In the stadium beyond, one of the tennis players served. "Is thwacking balls at each other all those two are going to do?"

"Two scantily-clad girls battling it out to the death doesn't interest you?" Tora's voice was smooth. "I always knew there was something wrong with you."

"They're not battling to the death." Maki pointed out.

"And they're not scantily-clad." Fenshani's eyes slid towards Tora. "Not outside of your fantasies, anyway," he said sweetly.

"If you think they're clad in my fantasies, Takihara." Tora's voice was all silk. "You have a lot to learn."

"He means he wouldn't be here either if he wasn't asked to attend." Maki said with no small amount of dryness. He ought to have known Tora would go to the length of being unsubtle with his remarks just to get a rise out of Fenshani - who it might be mentioned, now had light spots of pink on his cheeks and seemed to regret having baited Tora in the first place. It wasn't his fault Fenshani and Tora had to suffer each other's company - Tora had received an invite; Fenshani was filling Kurumi's place - but he'd somehow ended being the one attempting to smooth things over so that the two of them wouldn't be responsible for causing an international incident by the end of the match.

"No." Tora leaned back in his seat with a smirk. "I mean he's an idiot if he has fantasies of _clad_ women."

"I don't have fantasies of women -" Fenshani spluttered.

"Goodness." Tora pretended to sound somewhat scandalized. "I had no idea you swung that way -"

"What a wonderful serve." Maki's voice was very, very dry.

"I didn't mean I have fantasies of_ men_!" Fenshani sounded genuinely horrified.

Maki sighed. It wasn't as if he could watch the match while seated between those two. "He knows you didn't, Takihara."

"On the contrary, I'm considering moving a few seats away." There was a spark of amusement in Tora's eyes. "If Takihara is otherwise inclined, who knows what he might attempt? I have, after all, been blessed with divine looks and an intelligence the likes of which he could never hope to achieve."

"You have got to be kidding me," Fenshani muttered.

"I think he's here because Kurumi asked him to come instead of her." Maki told Tora, tones conciliatory.

"Kurumi's always been the romantic kind." Tora smiled an oh-so-amiable smile. "She knew I'd be here. I'm sure she feels Takihara should have a chance at true love, too."

"Kurumi was otherwise engaged!" The furious spots on Fenshani's cheeks had grown brighter. "You can't honestly think anyone would want to date you!"

"There's no need to get so strung up, Takihara." Tora's smirk would have done Lucifer proud. "I'm sure someday you'll find a guy who returns your feelings."

Fenshani swore. "You're unbelievable. "

"I am -" Tora heard the faint buzz of a cellphone in his breast-pocket. He flipped the gadget open and the amusement vanished in his eyes for a split second. Then he rose to his feet and turned to Fenshani, a smirk playing around his mouth. "Unbelievably good in bed."

"What the -" Fenshani spluttered. But Tora had turned his back on to him as he walked past a group of ladies to leave the row. Fenshani blinked. "Where is he going?" He asked Maki. "Did he get offended?"

"No." Maki leaned his head back against the back of his chair. "It takes a lot more than that to offend Tora."

The lines of surprise did not leave Fenshani's face. "Should I go after him?"

Maki turned his head to look at the younger guy and it occurred to him that Fenshani would always be just a tad too nice - too _good_ - to ever be friends with Tora. He thought of a shock of loose red curls and bright blue eyes and his lips curved into half a smile._ Just because he's too nice doesn't mean he can't be good for Tora_. And if circumstances had been normal, he would have told Fenshani to do that. Go after Tora.

But he thought of the flash of seriousness in Tora's eyes before he had left and his eyebrow rose.

"He's going to have a remark about how following him around isn't going to win you his affections because he doesn't swing that way," he pointed.

Fenshani's mouth set into a thin line and Maki knew he wasn't going anywhere.

-;-

"Kaon."

Kaon Umekouji tossed her blonde hair to look at her twin brother. "What do you want?" There was a note of impatience in her voice.

"You've been going out on your own a lot, lately." There was a question in Tomu's statement. "You aren't still chasing down Tora, are you?"

Tora. She thought of his hand next to her head, his lips on hers, and a faint blush spread across her cheek. "Of course I am!" She snapped. "I hate his stupid wit, I hate his I'm-better-than-everyone-else-because-I-have-better-looks-and-grades attitude, I _hate_ his guts."

"Calm down, will you?" Tomu's usual smirk turned into a momentary frown.

"Keep your nose out of it, Tomu Umekouji." She whirled around and slammed the door of her car behind her. "No change of plans," she snapped at the chauffeur. It had been a stroke of luck that the Suohs' gatekeeper had let slip that Marjani would be late because he was meeting Tora at the dojo. She'd never have known where to spy on him otherwise - that idiot kept his activities too well-hidden. _He's an idiot._

Something like a blush spread across her cheeks and the awareness of it made her swear out loud.

"Start driving already," she snapped at her chauffeur.

-;-

The Kasukage dojo's matches were known for being vicious - the sole kind of competition known to them was competition for survival; snapped arms and dislocated joints were the norm rather than the exception - and the fact that were just a few scratches on his cheek as he stepped out of the dojo was a mark of how well his last match had gone.

Tora pushed back damp hair as he stepped outside of the Kasukage dojo. He could see his car in the distance - it gleamed white in the bright light - and Marjani's silhouette against it was sharp and lean.

"Look at you taking up Ukahara-sensei's mantle." His eyes held a practiced kind of insolence as he came to a halt in front of Marjani. "And here I thought you couldn't stomach his belief that snapped arms and dislocated joints were good for the business."

"It seems business is all you can think of these days." Marjani's tone was even. "What with Mr. Igarashi having barred you from most of his since that disastrous evening with Sarakshi."

Tora's eyes flashed. There was a sudden burning anger to them - gone as soon as it appeared - that Marjani couldn't have missed even if he had tried. When the blonde spoke, however, there was a smirk playing around his mouth. "Just as well for you that I don't have to rely on my father to get things done, wouldn't you say?" He said softly.

Marjani's eyes flickered.

"I took care of Kaon." Tora said; he allowed his voice to turn into the smoothest, most offensive drawl it was capable of. Which was very smooth and very, very offensive. "She doesn't know anything - she's only attempting to keep tabs on you because she's attempting to keep tabs on everyone she's seen me interacting with. Whatever the case, she won't poke her nose into your business in an attempt to find out anything about me, anymore. Now if that's all you wanted to know -" He brushed past Marjani and reached for the car door.

"I kissed Sarakshi."

Tora turned. Their gazes held. The silence seemed to pool between them like solidified tension. Then -

"Been there, done that," Tora drawled. "Now if you'll excuse me -"

"She kissed me back."

He stilled. _She kissed me back._ He felt the statement go through him like a knife and he wasn't sure what he felt - sudden shock or sudden disappointment or sudden relief. Wasn't sure if he felt anything at all. "I hope you're not expecting congratulatory flowers." His drawl was cool. Nonchalant. "Not unless there's marriage in the pipeline."

"She doesn't love me." Marjani's tone was very, very even.

"But you love her." There was a glacial kind of softness in Tora's voice. Like a cobra - slow and poised - before it stings. "What is it that pulls you to her? Is it your Messiah Complex? Your need to save people? It would be so like you to choose something so common. You like that, don't you, that crudeness, that _earthiness_ she has -"

Marjani hit him.

Marjani hit him and he could have blocked the throw but he didn't because he knew that he deserved it. The dark fist collided with his cheek and jawline, bursting open the bruises he had sustained during his matches in the dojo. He felt the sharp explosion of pain as blood flowed from them and then he'd caught Marjani's fist with one hand and struck him with his other, hard.

The two of them stood there, breathing ragged and faces flushed.

"Don't ever -" Marjani's voice was cold, the coldest Tora had ever heard it be, and there was a feral sort of softness to it that seemed to built upon years of darkness. "Speak of her like that again."

"There was a time when you had no issues calling a spade a spade. What's changed, _brother_?"

"Go ahead, then." Marjani's voice was calm. "Pretend you don't have feelings. It amuses me, your belief that you can get away with it. It drives you insane with apprehension that she might want me, that allowing yourself to pursue her could influence her choice, take away from me yet another thing I might have desired. For all the pretense that you don't care, you care as much as I do. You care more than I do, Tora."

"I have never -" Tora's voice was very, very cold and very, very even and he knew as he spoke that he couldn't - he _wouldn't_ - bring himself to compete with Marjani. Not now. Not ever. It stood between them, the fact that he had always been given - taken - everything Marjani ought to have had. "Felt anything for her."

His fingers curled around the handle of the car-door. He made to wrench it open... and Marjani's words made him freeze.

"Interesting." Marjani's voice held no emotion whatsoever. "You'd pretend it doesn't matter. In front of me, of all people."

"Ah, yes." Tora turned around, his smile sharp. "Lying, manipulating, pretending. Just carrying on with the family business."

There was a cold emphasis on the word 'family' that told Marjani he was being deliberately included in the idea of it and - as the car-door closed behind him and the car roared to life - Tora could almost imagine the slight widening of Marjani's eyes.

That and the darkness he knew nothing but Sarakshi had ever penetrated.

-;-

Sarakshi loosened her grip on the handlebars of her bike, as she slowed it to a halt. Evening had begun to dim into dusk and she could smell the scent of end-of-winter leaves in the air. She sped up the staircase that led to her apartment... and came to a halt on the middle step.

The door was half-open.

Her heart leaped into her throat. The day had been disastrous enough without a break-in. She half-raced to the unit and then realized that was probably the last thing she ought to do. Her steps slowed as she reached the door and, breath caught, she craned her neck to look inside -

"Close the door behind you, Ishin," a voice drawled. "Undesirable sorts might drop in."

Her jaw fell open. Igarashi was lying on the couch, his hands folded behind his head, both legs over the arm-rest. He'd loosened his tie and his shirt was unbuttoned and his hair was windswept. He looked like an angel, a fallen angel who specialized in everything angels weren't supposed to know of.

"What." Her teeth were clenched. "In. The. Name. Of. The. World. Are you _doing_ in my house?"

"Returning your shawl," Tora said, voice smooth.

_Returning her shawl. _Sarakshi could feel that her mouth was still open. She shut it with some effort. "You... broke into my house." There was a mixture of disbelief and incredulity in her voice.

"As a matter of fact, I didn't." He sat up with a great amount of laziness and no amount of remorse. "There was a key in the vase outside."

She was so stunned that he knew this that, for one moment, she forgot her anger. "How on earth did you know that?"

"You're a little vixen like that," Tora said, his grin devilish.

Her mouth snapped shut. "You broke into my house."

"Repeating that statement over and over again isn't going to make me realize the serious moral dilemmas my action present. And no, I didn't."

She set down the groceries on the table with an audible _thud_. Her eyes scanned the lounge with fierce eyes. Which softened when she realized that all the other rooms were still locked. Which meant he hadn't attempted to force his way into them. Or - knowing him, it would have been on his mind - her bedroom. She looked up and saw him watching her... and realized that was exactly what he wanted. For her to see that the rest of the place was still locked up and soften towards the whole thing. Her eyes narrowed.

"You know what? You're the vixen."

His lips curved into a smile. "I was expecting you earlier," he said lazily.

She made to remove her cloak but, before she could do that, something caught her eyes. There was something white and fluffy curled-up next to Igarashi. It took her a moment to realize it was a snow-white kitten. The kitten shifted as she looked and snuggled up closer to him.

"What in the name of Hades is that?"

He followed her gaze to the thing at his side. Cat. Thing. "It followed me inside." He gave a broad-shouldered shrug. "Couldn't quite get rid of it."

There was a pause in which she looked at him and he looked back.

"I tried." He offered.

She had to laugh. It was... adorable. "It likes you," she said, the mischief in her voice all too apparent.

"Must be female," Tora said smoothly.

She shot him a look. "Wouldn't you know," she muttered. Shaking her head, she looked away from the kitten. "How long have you been here?"

"Half an hour. Give or take a few hours."

"And did it never occur to you within this half hour - give or take a few _hours_ - that breaking into someone's house is stalkerish and ethically unsound?"

He smirked. "How very me."

Glaring at him as she gathered the groceries, Sarakshi pushed open the door of the kitchen. The scent of bread and apples wafted outside. Tora rose to his feet to follow her in; the sudden blocking of the light that filtered into the place from the hall caused her to look up, one eyebrow arched. "I'm afraid you've been misled, sir," she said oh-so-politely. "The exit is in the _opposite_ direction."

He picked up a bowl full of strawberries and helped himself to one. "Quite the gracious host, aren't you?"

"Igarashi." She could feel her blood pounding in her face. "This is serious. You can't enter my house without my permission again. Ever." When he picked out another strawberry, she snatched the bowl from him. "Look at me. Is that understood?"

He looked down at her. She was clutching the bowl with both hands and there was a very, very crabby expression on her face. "That -" His voice was smooth. "Depends on whether I get a... reward for helping out at the car-wash today."

She stuffed the bowl of strawberries at him. "Enjoy," she said sweetly.

He dropped the bowl on to the counter and caught her wrist. "I'm more serious than you can imagine," he said, his lips next to her ear.

"It was never about the shawl, was it?"

"Believe me, I'm not surprised it took you this long to figure that out."

Sarakshi sighed. "What do you want, Igarashi?"

"I helped because you asked me to." His grin would have sent the devil into hiding. "It's only fair I get a reward. Unless you want me to.." He smirked against her neck. "Take it myself."

Something like a jolt of heat went down her spine. Eyes widening, she stepped back. "There's nothing I could give you that you can't already get from somewhere else," she said, her voice calm. "Now there's a lot I need to get done, which means you need to leave -"

"You can start by getting rid of that cloak."

She punched him in the chest. Hard. "You can start by getting out of my kitchen."

"Considering I possess the capability to buy this place if I wish to, it's technically mine."

"I repeat. The exit is in the opposite direction. You can start by getting out of my kitchen."

"You didn't take offense at what I said." Tora's voice was a purr. "I see you're getting used to the idea that you're socially and financially inferior to me to an extent that the human mind cannot even envision bridging."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to rise to the bait, Igarashi. Go on, make yourself comfortable here. I just hope you're used to sleeping on the floor and having nothing for dinner."

But of course. She'd assumed he _wouldn't_ ask someone to deliver an order of his liking to a place like this. Naive, wasn't she? Tora's mouth curved into a lazy grin. "What makes you think I can't cook?"

"I wonder why I doubt you've ever had time to stop looking at women long enough to learn how to differentiate between a salt and a pepper." Sarakshi said sweetly.

His grin widened. "I can cook... sometimes."

The bluntness of the statement made her smile turn into laughter. "On rare occasions, I'm sure."

"I'm sure the thought of me in a chef's suit is divine, Ishin, but you really shouldn't let your imagination run away that far," he drawled.

"You have one thing right, at least. If I ever did have fantasies about you, they'd involve you _not_ being like you."

He laughed. The sound made her look up with an emotion that was more than surprise. It was almost unfair - how could someone who smiled so little, have such beautiful laughter? There was a softness to his mouth when he laughed that transformed him. His smile was like the devil's, soft and slow and sinful. His laughter? The exact opposite. Her eyes met his with the kind of surprise one can almost taste in one's mouth, and the laughter in his eyes had vanished within an instant.

"What is it, Ishin?" His drawl was all lazy sin. "Like what you see?"

"Don't." She frowned, a small sort of frown. "You.." She walked past him, her footsteps light, her hair coming out of its bun in wisps of scarlet, and came to a pause at the unlocked door. She could hear the wind knocking against it; this close, it was possible to feel the pressure it exerted against the hinges. "Do you think I don't notice? Do you think no one notices? You're not all cold-hearted villain, Igarashi. You've never been. Don't pretend you are."

"And a maid struggling to make ends meet would, of course, know all about what the Igarashi heir is really like." His smile was sharp.

She turned to him. How good was he? How villainous? There were sides of him she would never understand. But even those were sides that were part of her. Her life. She turned to him; the curve of her mouth was soft when she spoke. "Does it hurt you?" She asked. "Pretending you don't care because that's what's expected of you? Hurting people who feel for you enough to make it seem real, but not enough to devastate them?" The wind picked up; she heard it as a distant voice, vague, meaningless. "You stopped thinking of me as socially-inferior a long time ago, Igarashi."

"It amuses me -" His grin, lazy, baiting, was calculated to offend. "That you want me so badly you can't even see me for who I am, anymore. Does it infuriate you? Watching me be with other women, all of them richer, all of them more elegant, all of them more beautiful, knowing you aren't worth a dime when compared to them?"

Her eyes widened. Tora Igarashi had been horrible to her before. Yes, horrible came naturally to him. _Horrible, but not degrading._ "What's wrong with you?" Her voice was a whisper.

"You don't have the guts to admit it, do you? You hate it, Ishin. The look on your face. The way your body reacts. You hate it when I am with other women because you know you could never, not in a million years, compare to any of them -"

"You're drunk." It felt like someone had squeezed her insides with an iron claw. The cold seemed to spill into her blood and face. She thought of him, bending over a half-dressed Kurumi, and her heart seemed to squeeze into itself. "I have never had any issues with who you go out with -"

He pushed her against the door. It fell open against her weight, clanging on to the wall next to it. She would have hit it with a painful_ thud_ if his hands had not been holding her shoulders; they hit the wooden panelling first. "You're a liar, Sarakshi Zentaro Ishin. You react to me; your body reacts to me." The grip of his hands tightened around her shoulders. "I catch you off guard. I challenge you. I set standards for you. You want me more than you would ever be willing to admit to yourself."

In the wind and rain and darkness, his eyes were as cold, as freezing, as unforgiving, as his voice. There was no humour, no mischief, no trace of lie in them. He could have been a statue carved out of stone - he was that perfect and that cold. She thought of the redhead she had seen in his room, his shirt against the girl's... and she looked up at him and it occurred to her that he looked _wrong_, almost ill. His hair was damp from the rain and his face was pale in the darkness. His eyes were flushed, almost feverish; the side of his face seemed darker than it should have been and it hit her, with something like surprise, that that was not an effect of the lighting. Someone had hit him and - her eyes widened - he'd taken the hit without any effort whatsoever to block it.

Her hand rose to cup his cheek. "What's wrong, Tora?"

He looked down at her. And in that one moment between his eyes lowering and hers rising, he lost the battle for his composure, the will to drive her away because she was not his to want, because he had always been given - been a rival for - _taken_ - everything that Marjani should have had the right to want. He had come here tonight with the sole objective of making sure he left no door in her heart - she was too warm, too trusting, too willing to give people second and third and fourth chances - for him to come back to. He would hate himself for it later, he realized, but in that moment, it no long mattered. He was - had always been, where she was concerned - selfish. His hand rose to unclasp the clip that held her hair in place; it fell to the ground with a clatter he did not hear, as her hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back.

He pulled her to himself with a gentleness that surprised him; she melted into him like she had been made for him. His hands rose to cup both of her cheeks, the hard pads of his thumbs resting against her cheekbones, and lifted her face to his.

"Sarakshi," he said, his voice rough with desire, and kissed her.

She did not resist. Her hand curled over his, soft and warm and just a little hesitant. His arm lowered itself to go around her and pull her closer; he heard her sigh against his lips when his thumb came to a rest on her back in a gentle stroke. He gathered her to him, her hand on his shoulder, his mouth full of the taste of chocolate in hers. He was aware of her shape against him, all gentle curves and peaceful breathing, and it hit him then, with a force so great that it left him numb and vacant, that he had made a mistake that he would regret for a longer time than he could envision.

Somewhere along the line, he'd fallen in love with her.

He did not deserve her. And if she stayed with him, near him, he would hurt her as much as he had always, would always, hurt Marjani.

Simply because he was.

He stepped back. His hand fell from her cheek and when, he spoke, his voice was a drawl, lazy and offensive.

"Fun, isn't it?" He cupped her chin between a thumb and forefinger and lifted it to his face; in the darkness, her eyes were wide and full of sudden shock. "Getting a taste of what could be. You like it, don't you, Ishin? Like every other woman of your class, you thrive on attention from men like us. You're the same as all women of your social status are. Ready to throw themselves at the feet of the first rich man who comes along -"

She slapped him.

She slapped him so hard, his lip split open. His hands released her - his shoes were soaked in rainwater, his wet shirt clinging to his chest.

"You're vile." Her voice was a bare whisper. She thought of the way he had pulled her to him, gentle, warm, so real, and something inside her wanted to scream that it wasn't, couldn't be, fake. Then she thought of the redhead in his room at the ryokan, his hand on the girl's shoulder, and something inside of her seemed to snap. "I'd have liked to think that when it comes right down to it, you're kind, gentle, even warm. But you -" There was no shock, no tears, not even a hint of hurt, in her eyes anymore - and that, more than anything else, told him that she was hurt beyond what he had the capability to imagine. She drew herself to her full height; there was an air of dignity to her that almost made him smile, a bitter sort of smile, at the show of strength she could put on when she wanted to. "People's emotions, they've always been a game to you."

She turned around. He realized, with an almost stone-cold sort of calm as she did so, that she would never turn back to face him again.

"If you come near me again, Igarashi, you _will_ be sorry."

He heard the thud of the apartment door as it closed behind her. He stood there for a long, long time after she had disappeared inside, his back against the far wall, his hands in the pockets of the expensive Armani coat, the posture lazy, almost practiced. The rain washed down the brick walls, coming down with a rage that was rare and full of salt, until it was impossible to spot so much as a speck of light in the pitch dark.

-;-

"Tora."

Key in hand, he came to a halt next to the black Mercedez. In the light of the flickering lamp post, he could barely make out Kaon's outline - the huge overcoat; the short, blond hair hidden underneath a tilted cap; the large, brown eyes, flashing with a calm sort of cold that did nothing to unfaze him.

It couldn't have been clearer she had been spying on him.

"Kaon." His voice was calm. How calm it was, amazed him.

"It's a little late to be out without a chauffeur, isn't it?" Kaon's voice was a shade too sweet. "Not the kind of place someone like you is known to frequent, either."

"Considering that I've never allowed you in the vicinity of anything even remotely important to me -" If tones could freeze, the chill in his would have frozen the town over several times - "I doubt you'd know the kind of places I frequent."

Her eyes widened; it was clear she had never expected a response this scathing. Her hand clenched into a fist. "You think I didn't see that?" Her voice was a venomous whisper. "What you get up to in that slut's house -"

"Don't you dare -" He stepped in front of her. She scrambled backwards and met the door of the car. In the half-light, she was aware of the sharpness of his smile, the crisp cut of his coat. "Call her that ever again."

"You -" He'd kissed her. Her, Kaon. She'd thought - _He played you for a fool, Kaon Umekouji._ Anger rose within her; waves of it. "You think you can play me for a fool?" Her whisper was livid. "I told you not to mess around with her, Igarashi. You think you can mess around with me instead and I'll let you get away with it?"

"And what are you going to do about it?" His smile was dangerous. "Tell someone on me?"

"No." Kaon's voice was quiet. "But I can tell on her."

He understood without her having to elaborate. The sentence could not mean anything other than what it did mean - and he ought to have known, having employed the same trick once before. _But I can tell on her._ Tell the school council that Saraskhi was a maid. The statement caused a spark of anger in him that he was almost glad he had not lost the ability to mask.

"Ah. And you're foolish enough to think that I'll let you go ahead with that because?"

"Oh no, Igarashi. I don't plan to go ahead with it myself." Something turned into steel in her . No one - no one at all - played Kaon Umekouji for a fool. "I'm foolish enough to think that _you_ will do it for me. Because you wouldn't want every single person in Japan to know that someone with Marjani Suoh's past happens to be your half-brother."

She drew herself to her full height. There was a fire in her eyes that would have told anyone that she was more than plain furious - she felt scorned, unwanted, played as a girl.

"The choice is yours," she said sweetly. "Make sure her secret gets out, or I'll make sure yours does."

-;-

One of Linda's perfectly made brows rose as Sarakshi stepped into Classroom 2-A.

"You." Linda pointed a painted fingernail - dark blue to match her earrings and high heels (an everyday violation of school rules) - at the redhead. "Need sleep."

Sarakshi ran a hand through her hair with a rueful smile. "I'm failing Physics."

"You could ask Prez to teach you." Sora pushed her glasses up her nose to blink at Sarakshi. "You're friends with him, aren't you? And I've heard he's had perfect scores on every Physics test since he came to Migabiyoika. And Kurenei Sensei was saying -"

"I'm not friends with him." Sarakshi flashed Sora a smile. "We're just.. acquaintances. I'll be back in a sec. I think I left my Calculus book in the cafe." She rose to her feet, smiled at Sora and Linda, and hurried out of the classroom.

Linda's eyes followed her to the door.

-;-

She was sick of it. How could he attempt to protect and hurt her, take care of her and drive her away, at the same time? How could he - how could _anyone_ - be this cruel without a reason? It wasn't him. It wasn't t_he _Tora Igarashi that she knew. If he wanted to drive her away, so be it. This time, she would not attempt to understand. This time, he would have to sort out his feelings - his motives - himself. Turning off the faucet, Sarakshi turned away from the sink and stepped out into the corridor. She couldn't let the mere mention of Igarashi get to her.

Not when the sole time she had seen him since last night - the thought of it seemed to squeeze her heart into pieces - he had glanced over her as if she did not exist.

"Sarakshi-san. I've been looking for you."

She turned around to see Maki. His hands were folded over his coat; his smile was polite as it always was. "Kanade." Her voice was calm. "Is everything alright?"

"The Headmaster would like to see you."

Her half-smile crinkled into a frown. "Why?"

"I have no idea." His tone was polite; no one could ever have seen the lie behind the smile. "Shall I escort you to the office?"

"I - I'll manage." She blinked. "Thank you."

He escorted her, anyway. His manner was casual, unobtrusive and non-interfering in a manner that ensured she did not, could not possibly, feel as if he were intruding. He knocked at the door of the office, bowed to her and left. Unsure and with little time to wonder what was happening as she was called in, Sarakshi stepped inside.

The space that stretched in front of her was wide and posh. The Headmaster sat behind a desk that was as expensive as all of the furniture in her bedroom put together and, when he looked up, there was a look on his face that made her heart pound against her chest in sudden apprehension.

"Miss Ishin, is it?" His voice was crisp and business-like.

"Headmaster?" She stepped up to him, her voice soft but sure. "You asked for me?"

"I do believe I did." Their eyes met. In the brief moment that they did so, she saw that whatever was about to come, could not be good news. "You're an honour student and that this has to happen causes me great pain." He reached for a folder and let it fall open on his desk. With a feeling of horror that seemed to clench around her stomach and take over her entire frame, Sarakshi saw that it was full of pictures of her. Pictures of her as a maid that no one who had not had access to her house this week - who had not been_ inside_ her house this week - could have obtained.

"Considering the violation of the school's code of conduct, which forbids such unethical jobs, I'm afraid we have to expel you."

x

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><p><em>Late again, I knoooow. But I burnt my thumb on my hair straightener. -_- *is careless* Nothing serious, but it hurt like hell all day. :_

_And... I'm not sure how I can put this into words, but everyone who stuck around, who reviewed, or subscribed, or added this to their favourites, who criticized or praised or provided emotional support or was just around... THANK YOU SO MUCH. Things have been really hard, and really, really crazy, and your words mean so, so much to me. I'm so sorry I cannot personally get back to each and every one of you. But every singe word in every single review, means something to me._

_The chapter title comes from the lyrics 'Romance and all its strategy, leaves me battling with my pride' from the Dan Hill song, _Sometimes When We Touch. _The scene where Tora finds Sarakshi's house key under a vase is inspired by/ a shot-out to the amazing medical drama, _House MD_, in which House finds Dr. Cuddy's keys under a vase outside her place. __Any and all factual inaccuracies that might be in this chapter stem from my lack of knowledge on certain subjects; if you spot any, please feel free to correct them. ^_^  
><em>

_Once again, thank you for sticking around. I'm so glad to be able to write this story for all of you. :)  
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_You gets cookies if you reviews? *_*  
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	24. Nightmares come through

**** chapter twenty-four  
><strong>**

**NIGHTMARES come through.  
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><p>"Sara-chan~ You look cuuute~ !"<p>

Picking up another plate of rice-and-fries, Sarakshi grinned at Manilla. Cute was _not_ the word for her one-piece, black-and-purple Medusa costume. It was dark, edgy and - with the giant, blow-dried red hair that went with it - rather intense. "You look cute too, Manilla-san," she smiled at the manager (who, in a short pink frock and pigtails, actually _did_ look cute) as she headed into the café's seating area.

She was turning back after having served an excited young couple their rice and shakes, when she saw a mass of blonde hair she could have recognized at first glance, in a crowd of a million.

"Yo!" Catching Sarakshi looking at her, Linda waved a manicured hand in the air.

"What are you doing here?" Sarakshi blinked down at the blonde, the moment she had managed to squeeze her way through the crowd - the place was _packed_, this evening - to reach Linda.

"Nice hair." Linda analysed her from head-to-toe in one, very Linda Look of Interest. "I like the dark and edgy thing your costume has going on. Why on earth are ya wearing a cloak over it? Medusa doesn't _do_ cloaks, woman."

"Medusa also strangles people to death with her hair, so let's all be glad the two of us have our differences," Sarakshi said dryly.

"Touché." Linda touched the tip of the wide-brimmed hat only she could have pulled off with such utter confidence inside a maid café, in an acceptance of defeat.

Sarakshi half-smiled. "You never answered my question, you know. Even they -" She pointed towards a group of freckled otakus who were too busy gawking at Linda's boots to notice anyone pointing at them - "Can tell you didn't come here to try out the rice-and-fries."

"Don't trust me at all, do you?" Linda pouted. "And I like the rice-and-fries." She picked up a pair of fries as she spoke, and plopped them into her mouth. "Mm. Cheese-flavoured. Wanna have one?"

Sarakshi gave her a _look_. "You do realize you're scaring the guys in here off, don't you? They come here for cute, not.." She motioned wryly towards Linda's knee-high, lace-up boots and short, orange dress.

"Divine?" Linda suggested with a grin.

"Outrageous," Sarakshi grinned. She pulled up a seat and plopped down in front of her friend. "Now what do you want?"

"I like your single-mindedness," Linda said dryly. But Sarakshi was right - she _hadn't_ come here to taste the rice-and-fries. The blonde paused, then set down her fork. "Sarakshi.."

_Oh._ Comprehension dawned across Sarakshi's face. "Nope." Tone firm, she began to rise to her feet.

"Don't you dare walk off on me," Linda said, voice cool. When Sarakshi arched an eyebrow, the blonde sighed. "You can't _not_ talk about it to anyone, okay?"

"Linda.." Sarakshi frowned. "There's nothing to talk about. I know you don't think it could be true, but I'm fine."

"It's not your attitude I'm concerned about. We all know you're determined to be nice and resolute and Pollyannaish, no matter how screwed-up things are." Linda rolled her eyes at the ceiling, plowing on before Sarakshi could open her mouth to protest indignantly at this labelling of her. "But if you think you can get away with not discussing the dynamics of what you're going to do about this situation with anyone, you're mistaken. You don't want to get an attorney for the hearing? Fine, I get it. Don't. But you can't march inside without preparation. You need to put a case together."

She could have told Linda she_ couldn't_ get an attorney, even if she wanted to - if Igarashi wanted her expelled, he'd make sure of that. She could have told Linda that no amount of preparation would matter, if Igarashi just bought or manipulated or both everyone on the board to hell and back, several times over. But she didn't. She didn't have to. Linda would know all of that already.

"Right," Sarakshi said, and rose to her feet. "You want anything?"

"Stop acting like a child." Linda snapped.

Sarakshi's eyes widened. Snapping was.. something beyond uncharacteristic of Linda. "Linda.." Her voice softened. "I know you're worried but this.. it's private. I misjudged Igarashi, he went to the Headmaster, I get to present my side of the case. I'm going to do that. That's all there is to it. Discussing it isn't going to make it better. Just more complicated."

"You don't think there's going to be a fair hearing, do you?" Linda's voice was soft but, even if she had raised it, the café was too crowded tonight for her to be overheard. "If Igarashi wants you out of Miyabigaoka, he's going to damn well make sure there isn't an ounce of objectivity in the expulsion hearing. Unless you can build a case based on your past performance - and there's enough of it to convince anyone you don't deserve to be expelled, if you do it right - he's going to make sure this -" She pointed to the café - "Gets blown out of proportion."

"I'm not going to fight the case on my performance." Sarakshi blinked. "I'm going to fight it on principle."

Sarakshi had not even considered the possibility of accepting that Cremé Maid was a one-time mistake she regretted having made, Linda realized. She wasn't going to lie to save her spot in the school, not if it meant going against what she believed in. The blonde's eyes narrowed - there was a rare sort of surprise in them.

"You're going to claim working in a maid café isn't a unethical job," she said. It was not a question; it was a statement.

"Yes." Sarakshi knew what Linda was thinking - that that was messing up her own chance at not being expelled; that convincing the board of that was an impossible task; that no matter how good or intelligent or determined she was, if Igarashi didn't want it to happen, Igarashi would ensure it didn't happen - and Linda was more than well-aware that Sarakshi knew her thoughts. Their eyes met, and both of them knew the conversation had gone as far as it would be allowed to go.

"You should try the new vanilla shake before you leave," Sarakshi said, as she rose to her feet. "It's very you."

"Damn you, Sarakshi Ishin." Linda's thoughts were a string of swearwords. "Damn you and your decision to set a precedent."

-;-

Genkei Igarashi slammed a fist on the table. Pen-holders and paperweights jumped into the air before falling back on to the table's polished surface with several loud _clangs_. If the employee standing opposite him was shocked at this uncharacteristic show of emotion, said employee did not show it.

"When was this announced?" Genkei forced himself to sound calm.

"Nine AM, this morning." Kin Kamenashi knew better than to question his boss's habit of keeping tabs on certain colourful or - in some cases, altogether bland (or so it seemed) - people, events and activities. The corporate world could all too often be a maze of hiding and finding secrets, and Kin had been with the Igarashi Foundation long enough to not be surprised when he had been assigned the task of keeping tabs on what seemed like an average - even if rich - nineteen year old.

"I see." Genkei Igarashi did not like to do things in vain; and it seemed that what he had been planning with such meticulous care for the past two months - breaking up Marjani and Kurumi - had been exactly that. He looked down at the newspaper clipping announcing the mutual and amiable dissolution of Marjani and Kurumi's engagement with narrowed eyes. "It seems young Master Suoh did not hold feelings for Miss Kaishu."

"Neither did Lady Kaishu." Kin's voice was smooth, sure and professional. Genkei didn't ask how the employee in front of him knew this - knowing was Kin's job, and the real trouble would be when the man _didn't _know. "Both of them agree it was a bad decision. I believe Lady Kaishu has since been sighted quite a few times with teen idol Kouma Yabu."

Kouma Yabu.. "It seems like such a shame though, doesn't it?" Voice cool, Genkei looked up at the taller man. "That Marjani Suoh made no effort whatsoever to woo Kurumi Kaishu. She's quite the young woman." Like a daughter to him.

"That might." Kin offered. "Be because his attentions lie elsewhere."

Genkei's gaze snapped up. "I wasn't aware of that," he said, and there was a sudden, very sharp interest in his voice.

"There's no substantial proof." Kin was enjoying this - but then, the reason he'd taken up this job in the first place was because he enjoyed what it entailed. "I wouldn't go so far as to venture a guess."

"Force yourself," Genkei said, voice cool.

"The redhead he hangs out with. He might or might not be in love with her - though even if he isn't, he seems closer to her than he is to most people. I believe her name is Sarakshi Ishin."

There was a moment of silence in which Kin looked straight ahead at the wall opposite him, his face impassive, and Genkei looked straight down at the newspaper clipping on his desk, his face impassive. Then the businessman smiled, a slow and not altogether pleasant smile.

"You don't say so," he said.

His voice had taken on the tone that told Kin he might be receiving a raise. Soon.

-;-

"Tora." Sahara Suoh's voice - oriental, husky, edged with a lilt - when she addressed the young man in question was welcoming, without being warm. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Sahara-san." He brushed his lips softly over her knuckles; he saw her cheeks flush with colour as he let go of her hand. "You look more beautiful than ever."

_The Igarashi charm_, Saraha thought. "Taken after your father, haven't you?" She said, tone melodious.

"If the thought pleases you, I wouldn't dare to disagree," Tora said, inclining his head towards her.

"You _have_ taken after your father." Like her voice, the smile she flashed him was beautiful without being the least bit warm. She adjusted the silk shawl wrapped around her shoulders and floated towards the dining table. "You wouldn't have come to see Marjani, would you? Because I'm afraid Marjani isn't home." She did not bother to pretend she wasn't lying - the lie in her voice was as apparent as it was sweet. "Perhaps you could see him some other time."

"Mother."

Sahara turned around; Tora did not. Marjani was standing in the doorway, his dark figure just a little too sharp, just a little too powerful to _not_ have heard what his mother had been saying. His eyes flicked to Tora. "Tora."

"Marjani!" The fact that her lie had been called out didn't bother Sahara in the least. She glided up to her son and kissed him on one cheek, her cat-like eyes lighting up as if she hadn't seen him in ages. "I had no idea you were home. I was telling Tora that just now." She flashed Tora a smile as she said his name. "I'll leave you two to yourselves, won't I now. Do you want me to ask Sakura to send something down? Tea? Sake?"

"Please don't," Tora said smoothly. "I won't be staying long."

"That's a shame. You should come here more often." She kissed Tora on the cheek and glided up the staircase and out of their sight with a grace few could have denied. Her disappearance from their view did not, however, mean that Tora trusted she was out of earshot. Not at all. His eyes flickered to Marjani.

Marjani nodded and opened the door that led out of the hall.

"What do you want?" His voice, the moment they were sure Sahara could not eavesdrop on them, was cold.

Tora thought of Kaon's outline - the huge overcoat; the short, blond hair hidden underneath a tilted cap; the large, green-brown eyes - as she had stood against his Mercedez two nights ago.

"There's something you need to know," he said, his voice very, very calm.

-;-

"I wasn't expecting you'd do it." There's a touch of surprise to Kaon's a-little-too-triumphant voice as she sauntered up to the cafeteria table Tora and Maki were seated at.

"I wasn't expecting I'd ever see you grow out of carrying a stuffed toy half your size to school either, but congratulations." Tora drawled, without looking up from his orecchiette. " You seem to have grown up a few years overnight."

"Edward has gone for his winter cleaning!" Kaon's expression was livid. "I'd never give him up!"

Maki glanced at his watch. "Minaret will be expecting me," he said delicately. He rose to his feet and inclined his head towards Kaon. "Kaon-san."

"Kanade," Kaon said, voice stiff. She waited till Maki's figure had become a dot in the cafeteria door.

Then she turned to look Tora in the face.

Kaon Umekouji had no elegance whatsoever; but there was a kind of out-of-control fire to her that, Tora thought as he met her eyes with a look of utter boredom in his own, would have been fun in bed. She smirked at him, the kind of satisfied smirk she seemed to have been practicing for a moment like this for ages, and then plopped down on to the seat in front of him.

"What is it, Umekouji?" His voice - bored, smooth - as he reached for his spoon, was meant to offend. "Done with today's paperwork earlier than expected?"

Her eyes flashed. It was, he reflected, easier than a spring breeze to work Kaon Umekouji into a temper. "She hasn't been expelled yet, Igarashi. You better make sure she is."

"Don't stress yourself over it, Umekouji. I ensured the Headmaster was informed of her part-time work." He gave her a silken smile. "That's the equivalent of her being expelled."

"You can't seriously think I'm foolish enough to fall for those words. That redhead is smart for a commoner. Then again, given the things she gets up to, it isn't surprising she has streetsmarts." Kaon rolled her eyes at the ceiling, and so missed the almost imperceptible whitening of Tora's knuckles around his spoon. "The point is, she's going to give the hearing the best she can."

"Your powers of deduction leaves me dumbfounded," Tora drawled.

Kaon's eyes narrowed. "Ever heard the quote about sarcasm being the lowest form of wit?" She snapped. "You listen to me -" If there was one person who could make sure a case he didn't want to stand, didn't stand, it was Tora Igarashi; and much as she hated to admit it, Kaon knew that quite well. Her eyes flashed to his face.

"You'd better ensure whatever case she builds for the hearing doesn't stand a chance." She realized her hands were curled into balls, and unclenched them with a sweet smile. "It's your neck on the line."

-;-

The dress-rehearsal had been over for a while. The auditorium was dark; someone had switched the lights off when the theatre club members had trooped out. _Half an hour_, Sarakshi thought as she glanced up at the Tissot watch mounted on the auditorium wall. Half an hour and she still hadn't changed back into her uniform, because she didn't want to miss him leaving. Half an hour, and he'd yet to come out of the changing room she was sure he was alone in.

Half an hour, and she wasn't going to wait any longer.

She slipped her feet into her blue satin slippers and rose from the back row. The door of the mens' changing room was unlocked; she did not bother to knock before she pushed it open.

He was standing in front of the main corridor sink. He must have splashed some water onto his face - his hair and chin were wet, and water dropped down his neck into his unbuttoned shirt. She saw him straighten at the sound of her footsteps; there was a grace to the action that could make you catch your breath and stare until all sense of time disappeared.

Disappeared until he spoke.

"One would have thought even someone as crude as you would have picked up what's left of their dignity and stopped attempting to get a taste of the good life, by now," he drawled, without turning around.

"Did you send in those pictures?" She asked, voice calm, chin set.

He turned around to look at her. She was not in uniform: the pale green dress he had picked for her what seemed like years ago, dropped to her knees in a flutter of deep green before dissolving into lace. He had never seen her in something that delicate - so fragile it felt like it would melt into you if you touched it - before. It made him want to run a hand down her bare shoulder and encircle her wrist between a thumb and forefinger. Feel the flutter of her pulse there against his skin.

He forced himself to frost his gaze and meet hers.

"Yes." He said. And when he spoke he knew with a certainty so sure it left him chilled, that if he had said no, she would have taken his word for it, believed him without a shade of doubt. And so she would never doubt what he was saying right now, because he couldn't afford it, couldn't afford to leave the faintest shadow of trust he could use to reenter her life, he added, "Your writing desk. Fourth drawer. Beneath an album of school pictures."

His shirt was unbuttoned. Water droplets trailed down from his neck to his chest and, for one silent moment, she remembered the first time she had seen him. He'd been just as handsome. Just as certain.

So much less incomprehensible.

"I see," she said.

Then she turned around, stepped out of the changing room, and closed the door behind herself.

-;-

Yuki Shinomori had faced a fair number of unexpected occurrences in her life, and so was unfazed by most unexpected occurrences. Nothing she had ever experienced, however - not even moving to a new country, with an entirely new culture and rules and laws - had prepared her for the scene in front of her.

Hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks and the kind of devilish smile that sent shivers up women's spines on his face, Tora Igarashi was leaning against the door of her hotel suite.

"Tora." The sole sign of emotion in her voice was the total lack of emotion in it.

"Yuki." Unlike in her time in Japan, she was not wearing a kimono. Even so, everything about her - the Catherine Walker coat, the dark hair blowdried to fall over one shoulder, the neat hat set at a tilted angel on her head - was utter elegance and grace. Tora wondered how many men who saw Yuki did _not_ fall for her. He straightened up and raised her hand to his lips. "How is that you become more stunning each time I see you?"

"The same way you become more of a flatterer each time I see you." She allowed the slightest smile to cross her features. "How long have you been standing here?"

"Half an hour. I'd have waited in the lobby, but the number of women choosing to sit there in rather scandalous positions for no apparent reason after I arrived, began to make the receptionists uncomfortable after a while."

Yuki half-grinned. It was the kind of amused grin no one outside of Tora had ever seen Yuki Shinomori give. "You travelled from a different _continent_ to see me," she said. She clicked open her clutch, retrieved her keys from it with delicate fingers, and allowed the door of her suite to swing wide open.

Then she turned around to look him in the eye.

"I'll assume this is about Sarakshi," she said.

"It's also about your father," he replied.

She froze. There was a sudden stillness to her that told him he had touched the nerve he had known he would. Then she raised her chin and met his gaze. "What about him?" She asked.

"There's something I need to do." He motioned to the sofas the pale light of the hallway illuminated; it was a story she had to know. "I need to know if it would affect you if I did it."

-;-

She had been looking for him for an_ hour, _and Linda Williams did not like to wait. Which was exactly why the moment she saw Takihara Fenshani - seated around a table with Kurumi, Kouma and a brunette she assumed was his date and would never work out with him in a _million_ years, given the disdainful way she was looking at everyone and everything around her - she marched up to him and said,

"Get up, lover boy. You're needed."

"Linda?" Kurumi's surprised voice said at the same time as Kouma blinked, the brunette demanded "Who the hell is she?" and Fenshani said, "Whaa?"

"Yo, Kurumi. Kouma." Linda turned to the brunette. "Linda Williams and, take my word for it, your dress wouldn't know avant-garde if avante-garde married it. It's a fashion disaster, woman."

"How dare you!" The brunette rose to her feet. "Takihara, you liar, you're cheating on me with her, aren't you? You -" She picked up a glass of chocolate-shake and dumped it over Fenshani. "I hate you!" Then she stormed off, leaving a stunned silence behind her.

Which was broken by Fenshani springing to his feet. "Shizuko, you have it all wrong -"

"Oh shut up." Linda said. "You two would never have worked out. Not to mention, I need you to come with me. Right now."

Fenshani frowned. "She's not a bad person. She's just.. temperamental."

"She studies at Miyabigaoka, and she was kissing Tora Igarashi this morning. No one who gets kissed by Tora Igarashi is going to want someone else in bed, Takihara. Now can I borrow you for an hour? It's important."

"Did you just imply I'm not as good in bed as Tora?!"

Kouma cleared his throat.

Fenshani and Linda both turned to look at him. "I'm sure it seems rather unimportant, given everything that's happened -" Kouma's voice carried its usual sensible and even tone. "But perhaps..." His eyes trailed to Kurumi.

"You could tell us what's going on?" Kurumi said, one eyebrow raised.

"I need some help with a Business Law assignment," Linda lied with total ease. "That's Fenshani's thing. I called him but he didn't pick up." Linda supposed his cellphone had been on silent mode, given the occasion. "So I called his home and was told he was out. Here. With you two."

"So you tracked me down, crashed my date and chased off my girl... for an assignment?" Fenshani's voice was incredulous as he looked down at the mess the chocolate shake had created on his shirt.

"She was cheating on you." Linda smiled her supermodel smile. "Besides, now that she's stormed off, you'll feel like a third-wheeler with these two." She motioned to Kurumi and Kouma. "Come on. Let's grab something to eat and you can help me with the assignment. If Kurumi and Kouma don't mind, of course."

"If that's what Takihara wants.." Kurumi looked a tad unsure.

"Great." Linda gave Fenshani a smile that could have melted stone. "Shall we?"

-;-

"This isn't about an assignment, is it?" There was a frown on Fenshani's face as he emerged from the men's room (now in a fresh shirt Linda had arranged for him from God-knew-where. Fenshani was quite, quite sure he didn't want to know where it had come from) his hair and face sopping wet, to find Linda Williams standing against the opposite wall. She looked the picture of glamour - off-the-shoulder sweater-shirt; perfect blonde hair that glistened all the way down to her thighs; legs that went on for miles and ended in tall, pencil heels - and the passing people had not failed to notice this. Quite a few of them were gazing at her with looks of either admiration or envy.

"No." Linda's smile turned into a frown. "It isn't."

"What is it about, then?" Fenshani asked, his own frown still there as the two of them headed out of the place and into the next-door café - a much smaller but busier affair. "You'd think I'd have the right to know _before_ you chased my girl off."

"Who was cheating on you." Linda reminded him. "With Igarashi."

"What are the odds that the reason Tora was kissing her_ wasn't_ her current relationship status?" Fenshani asked, voice mock sad.

The corner of Linda's mouth lifted into a grin. "Non-existent," she said. "But back to business, Romeo."

"I'd call you Juliet, but there's every chance that would make Shakespeare turn in his grave. You'll have to wait while I come up with another pick-up line." Fenshani half-smiled. Then his eyes turned serious. "What's all this about, then?"

Linda set down her mug of coffee and took a deep breath. "Sarakshi." She saw faint alarm in his eyes and a frown crossed her face. No matter how staunchly Sarakshi denied it, what had happened _was _alarming. "Someone sent pictures of her cosplaying at Cremé Maid -" Telling Fenshani that it was Tora who had sent them did not seem like the best idea, at the moment - "To Miyabigaoka's Headmaster. She could be expelled for holding a disgraceful job."

"Whaa?" Fenshani's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding me. There's nothing disgraceful whatsoever about what she does!"

"That how _we_ feel, not the board. Her hearing is next week, and she insists she isn't going to go build a case of how awesome she is - she's going to argue that working at a maid café isn't disgraceful. Like those people are going to listen." Linda rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "Her case is shot."

"There has to be something we can - Oh." Fenshani stopped short as realization dawned across his face. "You need me to help you build a case for her."

"Good work, detective." Linda's voice held the slightest hint of sarcasm. Running her fingers through her hair, she let out a sigh. "Your father's an attorney. You're studying to be an attorney. Sarakshi doesn't want one." But _doesn't want one_, Linda realized as she said the words, was an incorrect phrase. Sarakshi would know too well that she could not _get_ an attorney - If Igarashi wanted her expelled, he would make sure of that. "But I know she could use some professional help."

"We have to get someone else on board." Fenshani's voice had taken a crisp, professional touch that surprised her - his entire demeanor seemed to go from guy-next-door to professional-in-control within seconds. It occurred to Linda, for the first time since she had known him, that Takihara Fenshani would be a top-notch lawyer when he graduated. "If it's true Miyabigaoka's board isn't going to give her a fair chance, she can't handle this on her own."

"Well." Linda paused. "About that.."

Fenshani's eyes narrowed. "If you want me to help, Williams, you can't keep secrets from me."

For a few moments, Linda did not speak. Then she pushed her mug away and looked at him, across the table. "As far as we know, it was Tora who sent in the pictures. It isn't the board she's up against. It's Tora Freakin' Igarashi."

Fenshani swore.

-;-

"Thanks for the ride," Fenshani said, as he stepped out of the car and stretched his arms. "You wanna come up and have a bite?"

"You're not attempting to seduce me, are you?" Linda grinned at him from the backseat of the bright red sports vehicle.

"I wouldn't dare. I'm sure the things you can get up to make a move like that a lot more dangerous for me, than it is for you."

The smile he flashed her was radiant. Takihara Fenshani was one of those people that took life with a pinch of sugar instead of salt; the kind that was often calm and full of new things and glad to be alive, and made those around him feel the same. The clash between his usual persona and his law student persona had surprised her today. Linda smiled up at him. "You're smarter than you look, Romeo. See ya around."

"I'm pretty sure if a girl calls you Romeo twice in one day, she _wants _you to call her Juliet." Fenshani grinned. "See you around, Julez."

Linda grinned back as her call pulled out of the driveway of the Fenshanis' sprawling bungalow. The grin faded as soon as she looked down at the screen of her cellphone, however. The message Marjani had sent her over five minutes ago flashed bright on the device:

_The time, Williams._

"Yes, yes, I'm ten minutes late," she muttered to herself the car pulled to a stop again - this time, in front of a racecourse she knew inside-out, by now. She waved to the guards stationed at the main gate (one of them flushed red to the tips of his ears) as she sailed past it and into the stands.

Only to realize she couldn't see Marjani anywhere.

"You're late."

She turned around at the sound of his voice to see him seated at the far back. With the absence of lighting, the stand's roof steeped his figure in darkness. "You weren't spying on me from back there, were you?" She asked lazily, slinging her helmet over a shoulder as she walked up to him.

"If I wanted to spy on you, Williams, you'd be the last person to have an inkling of it." His voice was dark. When he rose to his feet - he was too much of a gentleman, she thought wryly, to keep sitting while she was standing - it occurred to her that his shirt moulded to him in a manner that was more than just a little disorienting; she could almost see the hard ridges of his chest and shoulders.

_Stop staring, woman, it's rude,_ she snapped at herself mentally. "But I _would_ have an inkling of it." Grinning, she dropped her helmet on to one of the seats and slipped into the one next to his. "Now. Since you and Tora have that begrudging-sort-of-respect-for-each-other thing going on - How much has he told you?"

Marjani raised an eyebrow. "I'm not quite sure we're on the same page."

"He hasn't told you." It was not a statement; it was a question.

The regular uninformed person might have asked _what_ she was talking about. Marjani Suoh, however, was not the regular uninformed person. If there was one thing he never was, it was kept in the dark. "Don't." His voice was soft. "Speak in riddles."

Linda resisted the urge to flinch. "Sarakshi." Her voice was cool. "He sent in pictures of Sarakshi cosplaying to the Headmaster. Her hearing's next week. She could be expelled from Miyabigaoka."

There was a moment of silence so cold, it could have frozen over a lake.

Then Marjani said, his voice very, very quiet,

"Your information is wrong, Williams."

"She asked him," Linda said coolly. "He accepted it."

Marjani's eyes seemed to turn to stone. His voice, when he spoke, was colder than Linda had ever heard it be. "He's lying."

She bent down and picked up her helmet. Then she turned to him and met his gaze, her own cool. "I don't want know what you and Sarakshi have going on. But whatever it is, she needs you."

Slinging the helmet back over her shoulder, she headed down the stands.

"See you on the racecourse," she said, without turning around.

-;-

Jacket draped neatly over one arm, Tora pushed open the tall, sleek door of his bedroom, stepped into it.. and paused.

Marjani Suoh was lying on his bed, his dark-skinned frame darker against the flawless cream sheets, his fine hair falling into his eyes as he casually flicked another page of a glossy copy of one of Tora's magazines.

"Daydreaming what it would have been like to be raised as an Igarashi?" Tora drawled, beginning to unbutton his shirt as if it were a regular come-back-home-from-a-night-out scenario, and Marjani Suoh was not lying on his bed flipping through the kind of magazine that was anything but Marjani.

"Not after going through your tasteful collection of literary material." Lazily, Marjani raised the magazine. The centrefold - showcasing a woman with clothes that might as well not have been there - met Tora's amused gaze. Marjani turned the centrefold towards himself. "Classy."

The corner of Tora's mouth lifted into a grin. "Divine as I am, Suoh, you need to get out of my bed. You're not going to win your way into my heart by crashing into my bedroom, uninvited."

"I doubt that, given all you've done since seeing me in your bedroom is proceed to unbutton your shirt." Voice and manner light, Marjani rose to his feet. And it occurred to Tora that, whatever Marjani Suoh was, he was never _light_. His golden eyes narrowed.

"Who told you?" Who told you. Not _Why the hell are you here_? Not _What's wrong_? Who told you because he knew Marjani too well to not realize what each of Marjani's expressions, each of Marjani's tones meant. "Let me guess." Tora's mouth curled up in a mock grin. "That blonde you refuse to have fun with. What was her name, again? Ah, yes. Linda."

Marjani's eyes flickered. When he spoke, his voice was very, very soft - and hence very, very dangerous.

"How much of it is lies, Tora?"

"You've been hanging out with that little spitfire too often." Tora's drawl was lazy. "Your need to see good in me is crude, even for you."

Marjani smiled. It was not a nice smile. "You don't look dumb enough to not have realized, after all this time, that you can't deflect my questions."

"I like the sharp smile, Suoh." Tora's grin was as lazy as it was offensive. "Quite dangerous. Nice effect and all. Have you tried it out on Williams, yet?"

"How much of it is lies, Tora?" Tora might as well not have spoken - Marjani's voice was flat.

"You should let me know if you haven't." Unfazed, Tora unbuttoned the last button of his shirt. "I have a feeling trying it out during rehearsal might make her more cooperative. How does she feel about your little crush on Sarakshi, by the way? She's too a little too polished to pretend it doesn't exist. Do you two talk about it while in be -"

Marjani's hand closed around his collar. The action was so uncharacteristic of Marjani, so completely unexpected, that it caused Tora to stop short, midsentence.

"How much." Marjani met his gaze with one that was so chilling, it made Tora want to smile the bitter sort of smile he never wore in front of people. Not ever. He had Marjani exactly where he wanted him - worked up to an extent that would make anything Tora said seem colder and truer - and he could not have derived less pleasure from the knowledge. "Of it was lies?"

"I know it's hard to keep your hands off me." Tora's drawl was all laziness. "But if you don't take it off me, right now -" His voice frosted over; he felt rather than saw Marjani stiffen at the freezing change that Marjani - Marjani who knew him better than anyone else ever had - had never seen coming. "I will hit you so hard, you won't be in a condition to complain about my lack of class if you tried."

Marjani's grip did not loosen. His voice, when he spoke, was flat. "How much of it was lies, Tora?"

The grin - the light sarcasm - the flash of amusement in Tora's eyes had all vanished without a trace. He looked at Marjani, the cold, dark, unfazed eyes, and the knowledge that Marjani would not doubt his word if he denied the allegation made him want to hit Marjani - hard - in the face. Sarakshi Ishin. Marjani Suoh. Why on earth did these people feel the need to trust him with their stupid ideals, to believe he would always do the right thing when it mattered?

He would never be the perfect, little anti-hero they wanted him to be.

"None of it," he said. And for the first time since he had stepped into the room, he met Marjani's gaze. "I sent in those pictures. I want her expelled." He knew Marjani too well to even consider the possibility that Marjani would believe some cock-and-bull tale that made no sense. The good - or bad - part was that he also knew Marjani well enough to know exactly what cock-and-bull tale Marjani _would_ believe, even if he - Tora - meant none of it.

"I don't want her at Miyabigaoka. Her presence is a distraction. And you want her." He met Marjani's gaze, his own cold. "The more she is around me, the lower the chance that she'll make a choice. I want her to make one." It amazed him how calm he sounded; and as he moved towards the door and held it open, a clear sign for Marjani to leave, he wondered if Marjani would ever forgive him for what he had just said, for what he was about to say.

"There's only so much I can bring myself to take from you. Go home, Marjani. Consider this a gift. I'm giving her to you because I can."

-;-

The unexpected had never surprised him and yet, Marjani thought as he parked the gleaming hunk of metal that was his heavy bike, he hadn't expected her. She was short and a tad boyish, her blonde hair gelled into fancy spikes, beige hoodie oversized, and feet dangling dark combat boots in the air.

He would have known who she was even if he'd never seen her before.

"Umekouji-san." His voice was cultured. He removed his helmet as he greeted her, his manner neutral, even deadpan, as if her being there did not surprise him in the least.

She took him in and the smirk her lip had curled up in the moment she had seen his bike, faltered. Marjani was used to that reaction. Her eyes - dark brown and large under the short cut of her pale blonde hair - widened to an almost impossible size before narrowing.

"You know who I am." Her lip curled back up into the smirk she had been wearing half a minute ago. The pretense that she was not bothered - that this close, he was not a lot more than she had bargained for - might have worked on someone less experienced in dealing with people who were prone to masking their emotions.

It did not work on Marjani.

"I see Tora told you," she went on, the smirk still there. "Makes it easier. I don't have to repeat.. disgraceful stories."

How had Tora described her? _All spirit and tantrums._ It occurred to Marjani that a more accurate description would have been a less shrewd, less diabolical, less calculating, more childish, more foolish, more spoiled version of Tora Igarashi. He slung his helmet over his shoulder. Then he took a single step towards her.

"Get off the fence, kid," he said, voice dark.

Her face flushed.

"Don't you 'kid' me! I'm almost the same age as you are!" Her voice was breathless. The top two buttons of his shirt were open; in the moment that she saw the jagged, vicious-looking scar peeking out from the V they formed, Kaon realized she had made a grave, grave mistake. Marjani Suoh was not Tora Igarashi. You attempted to mess with Tora Igarashi, and he made sure he carved you out into a spectacle you could never recover from.

You did not mess with Marjani Suoh in the first place.

"That would be a more believable statement, if you had ever acted it." Marjani's voice was not cold; it was flat. "Did you think you could blackmail me? Get a hold over Tora through me?" He was tired of Tora, tired of Kaon, and tired of the drama that followed the two of them. He placed a hand under her chin - she did not flinch but met his gaze with one that was so stubborn, it almost wasn't scared - and lifted it to his face. "Listen carefully to me, because I won't repeat myself. If I see you within a mile's radius of my house ever again -" He locked his eyes with hers, his own gaze the kind of freezing that could have left someone much braver shaken - "You _will_ be sorry. Now get off the fence."

She sucked in a rattled breath. "I'm - I am _not_ scared of you!" She burst out. There was a stubbornness in her voice that surprised him, just a tad, like an unexpected breeze. "Come, Edward, we're leaving." She grabbed the giant bear placed next to her and, jerking her chin away from him with a "Hmph!," jumped off the fence.

Then she was gone in a manner so fast he knew she was intimidated to death - and so bold, you almost couldn't have guessed she'd come here to blackmail someone and spectacularly failed in her plan.

-;-

She had gone shopping. It hadn't been impulsive, not at all. She'd texted Linda what to do... and with the world going topsy-turvy in ways she had never expected, Linda's advice to 'shop, you idiot' had seemed saner than most other things.

Now, with two bags full of oversized t-shirts (that she hadn't needed) and ingredients (that she was always up for buying), Sarakshi wasn't sure if she regretted or was glad of the decision.

Either way, she had to admit she felt calmer - even if after she'd told Linda the details of what she'd bought, Linda had called her hopeless, and hung up on her.

Her lips curving into a smile at the thought, she walked up the stairs that led to her apartment.. and came to a surprised halt. Marjani was seated against the railing, hair falling into his eyes, a magazine - open and full of pictures of killer heavy bikes - in his lap. He was wearing a casual-looking, round-necked white shirt that clung to the muscles of his arms; his Rolex gleamed in the evening light. She remembered the last time she had seen him and the world seemed to tilt, just a little. She looked down, he looked up, and their eyes met.

He set down the book in his lap with a graceful movement.

"Sarakshi," he said.

"No wonder it's so quiet here." Her voice was dry. "The sight of you must have scared the neighbours off."

"It actually brought a few of them outside." There was a hint of smile on his lips. "One of them asked me if I had any business here. I think he was hoping I'd say yes."

"Why do I not doubt that?" Sarakshi's voice was very, very dry. No one she knew - herself included - would want to pick a fight with Marjani Suoh, without good cause. But she knew the people there cared too much for each other to _not_ pick a fight for each other, if one was needed.

Marjani smiled a slight smile. "The girl next door told him I was your friend. She seemed quite confident I couldn't get up to anything dangerous."

"Kameko." Sarakshi half-smiled. "She knows who you are." She blinked when he arched an eyebrow. "What? I've known her since forever. I tell her things. You look like a walking, talking volcano, Marjani. You think the girl I shop with wouldn't have asked who you are?"

"You shop with her?"

Trust Marjani to pick up on what _wasn't_ the point. "You weren't expecting I live a socially isolated life here, were you?" Sarakshi asked, one eyebrow raised.

"You _shop_ with her?" Marjani repeated.

_Oh._ "For cooking ingredients," Sarakshi grinned.

"Why do I have a feeling those -" He glanced towards the bags her arms were full of - "aren't cooking ingredients?"

Sarakshi eyed the bags. "I was experimenting. Don't give me that look! Linda seemed all sure shopping for clothes was the key to reestablishing the peace and quiet my life needs, right now. I didn't think it could hurt to try."

"Right." Marjani's voice was still a tad incredulous. "Of course."

"Oh, cut it out." She extended a hand - the wrist lined with the strap of a shopping bag - towards him. He took it, his rough hand curling around hers, and rose to his feet in a powerful movement that left Sarakshi in no doubt whatsoever that he hadn't needed her help to get up. He took the bags from her arms as he rose, the action familiar and unobtrusive - and so fluid she couldn't have prevented him from taking them if she had tried. She looked up at him - standing, he was several heads taller than her; she could have set up a tent her size in his shadow - and the smile she had been wearing disappeared.

"Linda told you," she said softly.

"I love how every person I'm meeting today can't be bothered with the preliminaries. You know - why are you here, what do you want, that shirt looks amazing on you."

Her lips quirked into a smile despite herself. "I'm not sure the last one classifies as a preliminary," she grinned. "Now give me back those bags -" She made a grab for them.

"Nope." Marjani held them above her head, just out of her reach. "If you want 'em, come and get 'em."

"Fine." She glared at him. She'd tackle those bags out of his grip when he wasn't expecting it. It would be a futile exercise to attempt that right now, however. Shaking bangs out of her eyes, she turned around. "You want to come in and have a cup of tea?" She asked, as she reached for her apartment keys.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned around, her heart squeezing to what felt like half its size in her chest, and met his eyes, dark and unreadable under the thick lashes.

"Sarakshi," he said.

"Don't." She stepped back, the sense of calm that his presence infused in her vanishing into thin air. "If you were furious at me before, the last thing I would want is for you to stop being furious because you felt shaken or troubled because something you hadn't seen coming, happened. I don't want sympathy, Marjani."

"You think I'm capable of being sympathetic towards someone who knew Tora had a key to their house, and didn't do anything about it?" Marjani said, voice flat. Her eyes widened; he could not have looked less concerned abou6 the fact. "This isn't about sympathy, Sarakshi. I couldn't muster that for you, if I tried. This is about me. This is about what I feel for you."

"Stop making -"

She'd wanted to tell him to stop making excuses. She never had a chance to, however; he pulled her to him before she could finish her sentence, the action gentle but firm. She felt herself melt against his frame, the way she always melted against him, quietly, impulsively, instinctively, as if being against him were as routine, as natural, as breathing. His hand was rough when he cupped her cheek, the gentleness of the action belying his brute strength, his callused fingers curling in her damp hair. "I don't care enough about pretense to make excuses," he said; there was a rough edge to his voice that made her eyes widen. "This isn't about you. This is about me, because I _am_ that self-centred, that selfish when it comes to you. And if something happened to you -" His eyes locked with hers; she felt her breath vanish at the intensity of the gaze - "I'd break."

"I -" She would have liked to tell him he was nothing like Tora. Nothing. Her hand fell to come to a gentle rest on his wrist. "I should be scared. But I'm not. I'm hurt. Mad. I'm furious."

He placed a hand beneath her chin and lifted her face to his.

"What do you want?" He asked.

And she told him because he was Marjani, because he'd understand the rush and thrill and calm and _need_ of it, because he'd know from experience how it dissolved everything you weren't supposed to feel, how it cleared your mind, because telling him this felt natural and right and uncomplicated.

"I want to fight someone until I win or lose," she said.

He stepped towards her apartment door and pushed it open with one, large hand. It creaked to light, revealing the narrow hall that led inside.

"Grab your uwagi." His voice was calm. "You've never seen the Suohs' private dojo, have you?"

-;-

It was - and there was no simpler or fancier word for it - beautiful. It was done in black, dark brown and white, old-fashioned and Oreo-hued, a colour scheme she had never witnessed in a dojo before. It looked - and Sarakshi mentally chided herself for the thought the moment she thought it - a little like foreign chocolate, an exhilarating blend of native and exotic.

There was nothing extravagant about it - or so it seemed at first sight. Standing in front of Marjani, Sarakshi wondered how much money had gone into creating the breathtaking appearance of good, old-fashioned simplicity the dojo possessed in spades.

"This.." She looked up at Marjani. Blinked. "Is yours?"

"Mr. Suoh's," he corrected. When she cocked her head to one side and frowned, he half-smiled. "He likes good architecture. Even if he's never going to use it."

"The idle rich," Sarakshi gave a mock airy wave of her hand.

"He hoped I'd have a use for it." Marjani gave a broad-shouldered shrug. "And now I do."

She felt it in her blood, that rush of pent-up feelings, hurt, frustration, anger, disbelief, the need to knock them out of her system. There was something about judo - the sheer exhilaration of it - that left her vacant of stress and brimming with hope. "Fair fight," she smiled.

"Fair fight," he said.

Sarakshi wasn't sure when it began or when it ended - she lost all track of time half a minute into the match. Fighting Marjani Suoh was like fighting the apocalypse: you could try - and it was frantic and on-the-spot and exhilarating - but the chances of winning were never more than zero. _Ground fighting_, she reminded herself as she twisted out of a grip she knew she would never be able to loosen, if she did not dodge it. Kazuya-sensei had always said that ground fighting levelled the playing field between two opponents, no matter what their size or strength.

Kazuya-sensei, she realized two seconds later, had never known Marjani.

He wasn't just powerful; he was beyond focused. Marjani wasn't - she realized at a time that was a very bad time for realizations: in the middle of a match - fighting at his full strength, even if he had promised her a fair fight, because at some subconscious level, he could never bring himself to hurt her. Even then, his moves were fluid and beautifully-timed and ruthless. He went for the attack with a single-mindedness and cold-blooded calm that left her insides cold.

_Get a grip_, she told herself as she landed on the mat and sprang to her feet before he could take advantage of the fact._ Literally_.

She went for a leg-lock.

It was the oldest trick in the book. She'd fought men - Judo was a male-dominated sport and the shortest guy she had ever opposed had been seven inches taller than her - too long to not know how she could use their strength against them. She went for a leg-lock and, for a few seconds, she was quite, quite sure the two of them were done, and she had won, and the anger and frustration were all gone, leaving behind nothing but an utter calm that you'd never have been able to read in the sweat trickling down her neck.

Then she'd been slammed on her back.

It hurt like _hell_.

Marjani hovered over her, his hands pinning down her arms. She could have kicked him but that was too predictable, too expected, a last-resort, desperate move that both of them knew would do her no good.

In a pure Sarakshi moment, she kicked him anyway.

Hard.

The action had no effect whatsoever on Marjani - she felt goosebumps rise on her flushed skin as, one eyebrow arched, he shifted his hands to better secure her arms. "Very mature," he said, his voice deeper, rougher, hoarser from the fight.

"How on earth did you break that leg-lock?" She glared up at him. "Have you ever even lost to someone?"

He half-smiled. It was one of those rare moments when it reached his eyes. She was suddenly very aware of how close the two of them were - his weight pressing down on her frame; the corded muscles of his legs against hers; that familiar scent of night air and grass and sweat that was him. It occurred to her that if she hadn't known him so well, she might have been intimidated. But she did know him well. Her hands rose to cup his face; his eyes widened, just a fraction of a second, and then the emotion in them had turned from surprised to unreadable.

"Thank you," she said.

He let go of her; when she sat up on the mat, he was already seated, his arms behind his back and supporting his weight. "You know what?" He half-turned his face towards her. In the pale black-and-cream lighting, his features looked sharper, finer than usual. Darker.

"You attack well for a midget," he said.

"_Marjani_!"

And then she was laughing, laughing like she hadn't in what seemed like ages. She didn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard - it seemed to fill her up and kill the anger, all of it, and chase the disbelief out. She hit him in the chest, hard, and he caught her fist, and pulled her to him in the kind of one-armed hug that made the world tilt back into place.

"The punch was just an excuse, wasn't it?" He asked. "You were really hoping to get a good look at my chest, weren't you?"

Laughter bubbled up in her throat, again. "And you had the nerve to call _me_ immature," she said. She hit him again, this time with both hands; he fell back with an exaggerated move.

"See?" He said. "You do attack well for a midget."

"And you're fast for someone who looks like a tower of bricks." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Then again, even being able to move would be fast for someone who looks like you."

He grinned. "How do your friends have the patience to handle you?" Still lying on his back, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes; she leaned instinctively into his touch, and his hand curled around her cheek and into her hair, the touch simple, affectionate. "You were too sure the leg-lock would work," he said. "Certain you could keep me down."

She frowned. "Foolhardy?"

"No. Sure of yourself. Just the right amount of recklessness that's needed to be a good judoka. Of course -" he smiled. "Being sure doesn't always work."

She wanted to tell him he sounded sure, too. Sure of himself, sure of what he was saying. It occurred to her, in a way that it had never occurred to her before, that Marjani would make a brilliant instructor; there was a poise and perception to him that was inherent. Unforced, natural.

She rose to her feet. "Get up, you know-it-all. Unless you secretly _want_ me to look at your chest."

"That wouldn't be such a bad idea," Marjani grinned, not moving an inch.

She held out a hand. "I need a drink," she smiled. "You weren't very nice when you threw me on my back, you know."

"You wanted a fair fight." Still grinning, he rose to his feet. "That's the sole reason I'm not asking you if you're okay." He smiled a mock sharp smile. "I never ask people if they're okay, after I'm done with them."

She wanted to laugh all over again. "Cleverly disguised though it was, I think you just asked me if I'm okay."

"Didn't," Marjani insisted.

"Did," Sarakshi said.

"Didn't."

"Did." Grinning, she placed a hand on his forearm. He looked down at her; his gaze was just a little inquiring, and her grin softened into a half-smile. "I feel fine," she said.

"You should. You came out of a match with me with no broken bones." When she rolled her eyes, he touched her shoulder.

"Sarakshi."

She'd seen it coming. Expected it. For the first time since the Headmaster had uttered that chilling sentence in his office, however, she was ready to deal with it. She felt clear-headed like she hadn't felt in a long while - she'd needed to accept that Igarashi had sent in those pictures, that he _would_ be doing everything he could to ensure she was expelled. Needed to accept it to let someone - anyone - else in.

"I know." She rubbed a non-existent spot on her arm. "I shouldn't shut everyone out."

He smiled an almost grim smile. "Ready to go back to the drawing-board?"

"Yes." She looked up at him; the determination she could pack in a word as simple as that, no longer surprised him.

"Good," he said. "Because you've kept a lot of people waiting."

He opened the door of the dojo for her; Sarakshi's heart seemed to race to a stop when she realized that Linda and Fenshani were seated on the clear grass outside, the former leaning on her elbows as she laughed, shower of sleek blone hair falling to the emerald ground, the latter smiling.

-;-

"What you have to understand -" Fenshani's voice was calm and even. He sounded, Sarakshi thought wryly as he consulted a fact of sheets he and Linda had drawn up earlier, smart. Tailored for his profession. "Is that the Igarashi Foundation doesn't just own the school; figuratively speaking, it owns the board of governors, too. Now the Foundation isn't into politics, where the school is concerned -"

"Isn't this the point where you pause, so we can all have a good laugh?" Sarakshi asked dryly.

Fenshani glared at her. "I know it's hard to swallow, Red - and if you interrupt me again, even to tell me your name isn't Red, being the smartass lawyer-in-the-making I am, I _will_ refuse to help you -" He stuck his tongue out at her, ducking when Sarakshi threw a rolled-up copy of _Laws and Lines_ at him - "But the truth of the matter is, Genkei Igarashi doesn't interfere in Miyabigaoka in any way he shouldn't be interfering. Of course, that doesn't mean he's opposed to it - just that nothing that required his interfering ever popped up."

"Igarashi-san and Tora haven't been on the best of terms, lately," Marjani said. His expression was neutral, but Saraskhi could tell something was bothering him. "His father could take Sarakshi's side, just to spite Tora. He isn't above that."

"No." It was Linda. They all turned to her; she had said nothing so far, utilizing her time to chew on a wad of pink bubblegum instead. She ran fingernails painted a bright blue through her hair, now. "Prez is smarter than that. He'd never take the chance."

"What are you suggesting?" Fenshani's eyes were narrowed.

"He'll take his father's place." Linda glanced at Marjani as she spoke, and Sarakshi realized that that - the idea that Igarashi might ensure Genkei wasn't there in the first place - was what had been bothering Marjani all this while. Convincing Genkei and everyone else was a difficult task but, given his brand of black-and-gray persuasive powers, clearly not beyond Igarashi.

Fenshani whistled. "But he's _brilliant._"

All three of them glared at him.

"Fine, fine." Fenshani held up his hands in mock surrender. "I get it. But he'd be pretty damn smart, if he can do that. He's a smooth talker and you -" He pointed to Sarakshi "- are prone to bursts of truth that no one likes to hear. His being in the same room as you, without anyone to oppose him, is bound to make things more difficult."

"Did you just have a disguised go at me?" Sarakshi asked, jaw dropping open.

"That's what lawyers are supposed to do." Fenshani grinned. "Just practicing."

Marjani coughed, ever so lightly.

"Right." Fenshani hastily glanced at Linda for support, who rolled her eyes at the sky, thereby declaring that he would get no support whatsoever from her, in this regard. "So our worst-case scenario is zero percent sympathetic hearers and a smooth-talking Tora Igarashi, in the same room."

"In which case we?" Linda arched an eyebrow.

"In which case _she_ -" Fenshani pointed at Sarakshi. "Accepts that she made a mistake and tells them she doesn't deserve to be expelled, because it's a first-time offense."

Sarakshi's mouth dropped open. "I did not make a mistake!" She said. "I couldn't care less what the bunch in that room thinks. There's nothing disgraceful whatsoever about working at a maid café!"

"Do you really think they care about that?" Fenshani's voice was sharp; the sharpness of it made Sarakshi blink in surprise. "You don't need me to spell out all the ways Tora can make your job sound downright scandalous, Sarakshi. You can't be stubborn this time."

There was a silence so deep, you could almost have heard the sound of the clouds moving past.

"Sarakshi -" Linda's voice was quiet.

She looked up at them, the three people gathered around her. There was nothing common, and yet everything familiar, about them. Fenshani with his surprising excellence at analysis; Marjani with his gaze fixed on her, his expression unreadable; Linda with her party girl hair and clothes and nails. She'd worried them long enough, she realized. They deserved better from her - all of them.

"You're right," she said. "Tell me what you want me do."

-;-

It had rained again - the alleyway behind Cremé Maid looked like it had been painted wet black. The dark was all mist, alive with the distant-seeming sound of crickets chirping in the night, the kind of dark that made you want to go out and have a huge scoop of ice-cold ice-cream. As she closed the backdoor of the café behind her and breathed in the scent of wet mud, Sarakshi wished she hadn't gulped down two different ice-creams, tonight. She could have gone and grabbed one with Linda and Sora, then.

_Just one more day,_ she told herself. Then, for better or for worse, it'd all be over. And what if she was expelled? Some other place would take her. Goodness knew she had the grades and extra-curriculars.

But she wouldn't be expelled. She'd be fine.

"I hoped you might come," a soft voice said.

Sarakshi turned. She would have known the young woman that stepped out of the shadows by the way she held herself, even if the lamppost had not been showering her slim figure in pale, white light. Her hair was a cascade of breathtaking black that had been set over one shoulder; the perfect cut of her steel-blue kimono was sleek and expensive. When she walked towards Sarakshi, she did so with the kind of grace few ever achieve in a lifetime.

"Yuki?" Sarakshi sounded as surprised as she felt.

"I wasn't sure if you would be fine with having me inside the café." Yuki Shinomori had always had a beautiful voice; it could make anything sound right. "I apologize for surprising you. That wasn't my intention."

"Wha? No. Don't apologize." Sarakshi wondered if anyone had ever been able to muster up an iota of anger at Yuki - it was impossible to be offended by her. "It would have been amazing if you'd come in. We launched the daintiest, new cupcakes. You'd have loved them."

"I wasn't sure how I'd be received." Yuki let her hand fall from her hair to her side. "I know things between you and Tora have been.. strained." She looked towards the café-door as she spoke; there was nothing condescending, and everything thoughtful, about her look. "I'll make sure I try one out, next time I'm in Japan."

Sarakshi blinked. "You're not responsible for what Igarashi does." There was an utter lack of pretense in her voice, that made Yuki want to smile the grim sort of smile she never wore in public. Ever. "I'd never let that affect how I feel towards anyone who knows him. Come on in." With a soft smile, Sarakshi half-turned towards the backdoor of the café - "Let's get you something warm, on the hou -"

"Shinji Shinomori is my father," Yuki said.

Sarakshi froze. There was a stillness to the way she turned, then, that made Yuki's heart squeeze to half its size and turn to painful steel.

_Shinji Shinomori is my father._

It was like someone had caught her leg in a steel trap and snapped it shut. Hard. Sarakshi felt as if her heart had skidded to a sudden halt. Shinji Shinomori - the Headmaster at Miyabigaoka. She remembered what Tora had said once about Yuki's relation with her father, the clipped way he had said the word _relation_, and knew Yuki and her father had never gotten along too well. What was this, the sudden declaration, then? A threat? An offer? An apology?

She had never thought Yuki Shinomori capable of playing cat-and-mouse with someone who hadn't asked for it.

Her eyes flickered and met Yuki's. "Why are you really here, Yuki?" She asked softly.

"Tora wanted me to give you this." Reaching inside her gold-plated clutch, Yuki held up something. In the pale light of the lamp next to them, Sarakshi saw - with a feeling that seemed to leave sinkholes in her stomach - that it was a brand new copy of her script in the play.

"Give it back to him," she said, voice so calm it would have surprised her, had she had the time to register the calmness. "And tell him." Her tone was almost too even for herself. "That he needs to find a replacement."

"No." Yuki said the word softly, in a manner that was neither offensive, nor harsh. "He asked me if I would give you this. I told him I wouldn't. I had no reason to."

"But you have a reason to be here." It was not a question; it was a statement.

"Yes." Dropping the script into her clutch, Yuki met Sarakshi's gaze across the distance that separated them, and Sarakshi was suddenly aware of herself - the blow-dried red hair that fell past her shoulders; the black-and-purple Medusa costume, under the dark cloak; the flats that had been a last-minute replacement when she had realized Manilla had forgotten to get her the right shoes - reflected in Yuki's crystal-clear eyes. She almost expected Yuki to speak like Kurumi once had - _What does he see in you?_ - but when Yuki spoke, the black-haired girl's voice was soft and devoid of any bite, whatsoever.

"Something's changed between you two," she said.

"No." Sarakshi's throat felt parched. "I thought something had. But nothing's changed." Her eyes flicked to the café door behind them, still, waiting. "I have to go back in. It's cold out here - you should come in, too."

"You would have trusted Tora with your life, before."

The words made Sarakshi freeze. There was a softness to Yuki's tone that was half-breaking, half-painful. She turned around and the distance between her and Yuki seemed to stretch on like an endless silence.

"You love Tora," Sarakshi said softly. "You'll always trust him."

"And you don't?" Yuki asked.

There was a vagueness, an ambiguity in the question - Don't love? Don't trust? - that made a lump rise in Sarakshi's throat. What did she feel for Tora Igarashi? She thought of the way he had kissed her, sure but not altogether in control, so warm it was a blaze, so intense you could almost feel the sparks in the air, gentle, not harsh, and she thought of how he had pushed her away, the chilling sound of her hand as it had split his lip. And that - all of it, the fire, the warmth, the coldness that left her broken - she realized as Yuki's question sank in, was exactly what she felt for Tora Igarashi.

That she couldn't heal him.

"The time for trust passed a long time ago," she said.

"You didn't say no."

The wind had picked up. It whipped Sarakshi's hair all over her face. How did Yuki, she wonder, manage to stand there with her cascade of hair all in place? Her hand closed around the doorknob; it felt metallic and damp under her fingers.

"Yes," she heard herself say. "I didn't." A small smile flitted across her face. "There are things I know Igarashi would never do. Having me expelled just isn't one of them." She turned the doorknob, and it occurred to Yuki that Sarakshi Ishin was too good-hearted to ever be played. Good-heartedness saved her. "Come on in, Yuki," she said, without turning. "It's cold. We could both do with coffees."

"Yes." Yuki Shinomori looked at the redhead frowning down at the doorknob, and realized she - Yuki - had lost a long time ago. "I think I could do with a coffee."

-;-

"You _are_ finishing this before you leave." Marjani's tone was flat.

"Someone please explain to him the drawbacks of having this -" Holding up the greenish mixture of tea-like something that Marjani claimed was supposed to soothe her nerves, Sarakshi glared at him across the table - "When you feel like you might throw up during the hearing that decides your future, if you have anything beforehand."

"He's right. Y'should drink something before leaving, ya know." Stretched out lazily on the couch, Linda's voice was scratchier and huskier from all the coffee she had consumed during the night. The blonde placed her hands behind her head and stretched out her long legs. "If you faint or something during the hearing, I wouldn't put it past Prez to convince everyone in the room that proves you're guilty."

"She has a point," Fenshani - the sole person concentrating on his eggs-and-toast and not on her (Sarakshi hadn't known how much Fenshani liked to eat, before last night) - said, looking up from his breakfast.

"What is this, suddenly? The Annual Set-Things-Right-for-Sarakshi-by-Making-Her-Drink-Something-That-Smells-Like-Fish Meeting?" Sarakshi asked crabbily.

"I think you misheard the name," Marjani said dryly. "We've only ever have the Is-it-possible-to-make-Sarakshi-act-sane-for-once-even-if-it-requires-making-her-consume-things-that-smell-like-fish meetings."

"That's an awfully long name," Fenshani said. "It would take a lot of paperwork to get it registered. Red, if you don't want to drink that, give it to me. I'm hungry."

"Hungry? What are you going to do, eat the cup?" Linda's voice was all sarcasm.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Marjani said, nodding towards the bowl full of toast that Fenshani had almost single-handedly finished.

"Guys!" Sarakshi stared at all of them incredulously. "Igarashi wants me expelled from Miyabigaoka. I have a_ biased_ hearing in half an hour. I haven't slept a proper wink, because the three of you -" She eyed all of them - "Crashed into my apartment without my permission, last night. Can you cut it out for two seconds?"

The three of them stared at her for a second.

Then Fenshani said, "Are you drinking that thing or what?"

Sarakshi sighed. "Yes, Takihara." She gave Marjani - who had the nerve to smirk at her - a you-are-so-dead-once-I'm-out-of-this-trouble look as she raised the cup to her mouth and emptied its contents in three, long hot liquid tasted like seaweed and burned all the way down to her stomach. "There. I drank it. Happy?"

"No." Fenshani made a mock sad face. "I was hoping I'd get to drink it."

"Oh, cut it out." Linda reached forward, picked up a pack of cold coffee, and tossed it at Fenshani, who raised his right arm and grabbed it dexterously out of the air. "Nice catch," she grinned.

"I'm divine like that," Fenshani said.

"Just what we needed," Sarakshi groaned. "A makeshift Igarashi."

Marjani's arm closed around her shoulders as she spoke. She looked up at him as warmth engulfed her and her breath seemed to catch at the quiet reassurance - warm and full of the belief that she'd be just fine - in his eyes. Her lips curved into a smile. "Thank you," she said. Her eyes swept to Linda - watching the two of them with an expression that was almost impossible to read - and then to Fenshani - the serious look in his eyes as he looked up from the mug of cold coffee belying his attempts at keeping the atmosphere cheerful - and a lump of gratefulness formed in her throat.

"Thank you," she said. "All of you."

Then she smiled.

"Even if you ate your way through everything in the kitchen, and I'm going to kill all of you for it the moment I'm out of that hearing."

-;-

"So you're denying that you work at this place called -" The rather short man questioning her pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looked down at the papers in his hand, and flinched as he said the name - "Cremé Maid?"

"No." Sarakshi fought to keep her voice even. "I'm denying that I work at a place that would qualify as disgraceful, under Miyabigaoka High's current rules."

It had started off bad.. and things had gone downhill from there. Yuki had told her - the black-haired young woman's voice soft and sure over coffee the evening before - that the hearing_ would_ be biased, that she should not expect any support from any of the Board members. It wasn't that what was getting to Sarakshi. It was what Fenshani had said over a dozen times, before seeing her off.

_Don't lose your temper_, he'd said again and again. _They will bait you. This isn't about standing up for what's right. This is about making your point as calmly as you can._

Half an hour into the hearing - they ought to have been done by now, but it seemed as if someone (and she had a fair idea _who_ that someone was) had told them to drag the questions out, as much as possible - and she was finding it very, very hard to stick to Fenshani's advice.

"So you're suggesting -" The man raised a delicate eyebrow. "That it's perfectly fine - ethical even - to work at a place that utilizes teenage girls to recreate fantasies?"

Sarakshi's jaw dropped open. It took every ounce of her strength to not walk up to the man and punch him, hard, in the face. "Cremé Maid serves food and arranges themed, cosplaying events," she said, her voice full of a cold sort of calm. "As Igarashi-san, as a frequent visitor, would obviously know."

She regretted the words the moment they escaped her mouth. Silence welled in the hall, a silence so deep and so sudden, she wished she could disappear in it. _They will bait you,_ Fenshani had said again and again. _Igarashi will bait you. Don't let him get to you._

"But of course." Tora rose to his feet and inclined his head - the action all amused respect - towards her. There was a very, very entertained grin playing around his mouth. He'd wanted her to make a mistake like this, she realized. No, not wanted - he'd been _waiting_ for her inability to hide her outrage at such utter lies, to kick in. "While her use of the word 'frequent' is misleading, Ishin-san is right when she says I visited the... café -" He said the word 'café' with an almost-not there kind of distaste. A calculated distaste. "- in question. Distasteful though the task was, I had to ensure that the information I had come across was correct. It seemed imprudent to send someone else - I wouldn't have wanted any rumours regarding Ishin-san to leak out, in the case the information that had reached me wasn't true."

She wanted to kick him in the shin. Grab him by the shoulders and shake him, until he gasped for breath. The reporters at the back of the hall were scribbling furiously on their notepads. _There will be reporters_, Yuki had told her. _Make sure you give them something in your favour to talk about._ She'd gone and blown up the faint chance she had had.

"So your final statement," The man was now saying. Sarakshi jerked herself back to the present. "Is that the 'café' you work at does not seek to recreate unethical fantasies?"

"Yes." She forced her voice into one that was calm. Even. "Cremé Maid -" She _would_ use the name, even if they refused to -"Serves food and arranges themed, cosplaying events, much like many other reputable restaurants and cafés."

"Of course." It was Tora's voice - all fake charm and respect - that made her jerk her gaze up from the man in front of her. "Some of the pictures I've obtained of what happens at such places would say otherwise." He picked up a remote and pressed a button. A full-blown picture flashed on the projector screen beside her. Colour rushed to Sarakshi's cheeks - it was a picture of a skimpy maid costume that no maid café she'd ever been to would ever consider as a uniform. Tora pressed another button and the image disappeared. "I'm sure we all feel sorry that we had to see that. However, given how things stand.." He inclined his head, and sat down.

"Given that this is the kind of costumes the staff at the place you work at wears -" The man in front of her began in the awkward silence.

It was the last straw.

"Have you been listening to anything I've saying?" Sarakshi snapped. "You. All of you." Her gaze snapped up to take in all of the men and women in front of her. The charade of a hearing wouldn't have been half as awful if it hadn't been for Igarashi, but she no longer cared. _This isn't about standing up for what's right, _Fenshani had said a dozen times, but it was. It always was. "Why the heck would you orchestrate this sad excuse of a hearing, if you'd all decided your stance even before you'd heard my side of things? It's pathetic. I work at a maid café which - as evidenced by all the pictures of _me _Igarashi had the nerve to break into my house and steal -" There were cameras on her, dozens of them; she could not have cared less - "_Serves food and arranges themed, cosplaying events that are anything but disgraceful! _This isn't even about me! This is about every person ever who has to stand in this spot and face all of you. Have you ever given anyone a fair trial? How many people have had their careers ruined because you couldn't get rid of your biases? Look at yourselves, all of you! You have power, money, status.. and no common sense or conscience whatsoever! How can you sideline the fact that I'm an honour student, consistently top of my class, and have an utterly clean record in favour of the nonsense an Igarashi heir is sprouting, just because he looks and talks like he stepped out of a fashion magazine?!"

She stopped. Her cheeks were were very, very bright and her breath was very, very fast. There was a silence in the room so deep, she felt capable of hearing each heartbeat in the hall, if she could just focus. Then the silence broke, all at once, as outraged men and women rose to their seats and began to speak, all at once. Her eyes sailed over them and met Igarashi's - his gaze was alight with the kind of wicked light that would have made a woman who didn't know him blush red to the tips of her toes, and there was a smirk on his face that would have put the devil to shame.

She saw herself - pink-cheeked, breathless and thoroughly tousled up - reflected in the wicked entertainment in his eyes, and realized what a huge mistake she had made.

"Ishin-san." Shinji Shinomori's voice - raised over the babble of angry voices in the room, with the help of a microphone Tora had just risen to hand him over with a thoroughly entertained smirk - was very, very cold. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave the hall. We will call you back in half an hour."

Her gaze met Tora's and held.

Turning on her heel, she left the room.

-;-

"You WHAT?" Fenshani yelped.

"I get it. I screwed up." Seated in the hallway several corridors away from the room of the hearing, Sarakshi crossed her arms across her chest. "But someone had to do it, Takihara. How many people stand in that room and break down because those people can't be bothered to think outside their own prejudices?"

"You did not just do that," Fenshani muttered, head in his hands.

"Leave her alone," Linda snapped. Fenshani and Marjani both looked up her, in surprise - Fenshani's obvious, Marjani's faint. Snapping was not a very Linda thing. The tall blonde - looking scandalous in her cheerleader uniform - walked towards Sarakshi, and sank into the empty spot next to her. "You did the right thing," she said. There was a pause and then Linda said, "That's what I'd have done."

"All the more proof it was an utterly dumb thing to do," Fenshani mumbled. Linda grabbed his collar with one, bright yellow nail and pulled him to her.

"What did you say?" She said dangerously.

"I called you dumb, Juliet." Fenshani's glare was a sign of how stressed out he was. "Deal with it."

"You're too stressed out to be any fun." Rolling her eyes, Linda let go of Fenshani. Her eyes snapped to Marjani. "What do you think?" She asked.

"I'm choosing not to." Marjani's eyes flickered from her to Sarakshi. "Sarakshi.."

"Don't." Sarakshi sighed and reached for the bottle of water Sora had gotten her. "I can't go and take my words back now, can I? And even if I could.." She smiled, a grim sort of smile. Tora Igarashi had set her up - and despite having known him so well, having known him so thoroughly, she had played right into his hands. "And even if I could, I wouldn't. It was true, all of it. Someone needed to say what I said to them. What's the worst the lot of them can do? Expel me. Fine. I'll find another good school."

"Sarakshi," a soft voice said.

She turned around.. and her eyes widened. The man who had spoken was of average height. His hair - dark and neatly brushed back - were of the same colour as his suit. He wore square-framed spectacles over a straight nose.

Square-framed spectacles that framed dark violet eyes.

She felt her stomach tighten into knots - it was Hiroto Zentaro.

"Mr. Hiroto." She fought to keep her voice even, but his appearance, coupled with what had just happened, was too much, even for her. Marjani had risen to his feet at the change in her voice. There was a dark warning about him that made Hiroto take a sudden step back.

"I want to talk to you," Hiroto said; his voice was uncertain, as if unsure of how welcome he was.

"Who are you?" Linda's eyes narrowed.

"It's fine." Sarakshi resisted the urge to sigh as she looked around at her friends. Irrespective of Hiroto Zentaro's relationship with her, he did not deserve to be suspected of ill-will before he'd even had the chance to speak. "I know him. He's.. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"You sure?" Linda's usually large, hazel eyes were still slits.

"Yes." She placed a hand on Marjani's forearm - the strength of it was like a jolt; it seemed to burn her right through - and then removed it. Their eyes met, hers and Marjani's, and then he let her follow Hiroto out of the hallway. The moment the two of them were out of sight and earshot of everyone else, Sarakshi turned to face the uncle she had seen in person just once before, when he had been waiting for her outside her apartment because Igarashi had blackmailed him into it. She remembered that one time a little too well. How he'd stated her work was disgraceful - offered to help her as long as she kept quiet about their relation to each other. His eyes were still the same dark violet that had been her father's - the colour still made it an effort for her to tear her gaze away.

"What do you want, Mr. Hiroto?" She said, softly.

"Sarakshi.." There were shadows under his eyes, she realized. He reached up a hand and rubbed at one of them. "I attended your hearing." He paused. "Tora Igarashi sent me a letter of invitation."

She smiled. It was not a bitter smile. "That bastard," she said.

"I had no intention of attending. He visited my office."

"And blackmailed you into attending?" The smile was still there.

"No." Hiroto took a deep breath. "He asked it of me as a favour. He said if I came, I would never have to be worried again that he would tell anyone about.. this secret. You."

"And you believed him?" Sarakshi's voice was incredulous. "You believed something Igarashi said, after you've seen him in action once? Manipulating people to get what he wants is his specialty. You know he won't keep his word!"

"You're wrong." Hiroto's voice was calm. "He will. You might not understand, but trust matters in business." He raised a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "I'm not saying he won't attempt to manipulate me again, if he feels the need. But this - you - aren't the bait he'll use. He knows just as well as I do that there are places you keep your word."

He was right. She knew he was. Sarakshi sighed and rubbed her temples. "So you came." She wasn't sure what she felt.. anger or hurt or the desire to beat Igarashi into a pulp. She shook her head. "You saw the drama he wanted you to see. He knows I'm aware you saw it. He'll have had his entertainment. You're free to go, Mr. Hiroto."

"When he came to convince me, he said.." Hiroto paused. "He said I needed to attend. I knew he couldn't mean that you'd need me to be there. He said it was.. because I needed to see you talk myself, to know what I'd never treasured."

It was as if someone had punched her in the stomach. The kind of punch that leaves you reeling and spitting out blood. _Cat-and-mouse_, she reminded herself. _His game of cat-and-mouse. _She thought of Yuki, standing in front of her, sleek dark hair over one shoulder as she said, _You would have trusted Tora with your life, before_. And his chest against hers as he pressed her to himself with a desperate sort of need - the wild beat of his heart against hers, so wild she knew he was not even within a ten mile's radius of control. "He's playing with us," she said, and her voice came out scratchy, as if someone had dragged it out of her. She cleared her throat and met Hiroto's gaze. "He.. you know he gets a savage pleasure out of playing with people's feelings."

"Sarakshi.." Hiroto looked at her. There was an uncertainty to his manner that surprised her with its newness. "I don't care."

"What?"

"I don't care." He touched her face. He had the same, strong hands as her father - the touch sent shivers crackling through her as memories flooded her. "The one thing I've valued more than anything else in life is the ability to speak out against injustice. Your father and I worked hard to get somewhere in life, Sarakshi.. we shared some qualities." He swallowed. "I know I was never as strong as him. When I saw you were taking care of your own self fine, I.. I let you be. I had a dream and I wanted to chase it. I thought you would be a hindrance. But I misjudged you." For the first time, he met her eyes. "I'm sorry."

She felt like she'd been submerged in bitter-cold water. "Mr. Hiroto.."

"Listen to me once. Please."

"I can't.." She shook her head. "I can't listen to you and not think it isn't one of his tricks, that he hasn't blackmailed you into doing this -" But she could. _You would have trusted Tora with your life, before._ And the realization that she trusted him - trusted him despite everything he had done - not to go so far as to blackmail Hiroto into fooling her, left her reeling. Would she trust anything he said to her, ever again? No. But even then -

"Hear me out." Hiroto ran his hands through his hair; the action left it looking ruffled and unbrushed. "When he left, Igarashi said that if by the end of today, I realized I had missed out on something that deserved to be treasured.. I owed it to whatever I had left of my conscience to correct my mistake. He said I would find that you forgave people too easily, and too readily. I know I can't walk into your life and expect you to trust me like you trusted your father. I know I don't deserve your trust. But I'll wait. I want you to know I'm here if you ever feel like talking to me. Sarakshi.. if you get expelled, I'd still be proud that you spoke the way you spoke in that room."

It was the first time he had expressed pride over anything she'd done. This man with her father's eyes. She felt tears rise in her eyes and forced them away. "Thank you," she said. He stood there, his face white, and when he thought she would leave and walk off, she walked to him and placed her hand on his forearm. He let go of the breath he felt he'd been holding in since he had walked up to her, ten minutes ago.

"He's a jerk," she said. "He's a lying, manipulative jerk."

"Just because I think I misjudged you doesn't mean you get to use whatever language you want to use around me, young lady," he smiled.

She laughed. It was a small laugh, but it was a laugh all the same.

-;-

Hiroto had left her a number. Several numbers. He'd also offered to take her out for ice-cream sometime. Sarakshi had told him he had better not be hoping he had won her over - he'd smiled and joked he hadn't trusted Igarashi's claim that she forgave easily, for a single second - before he had disappeared back into the room.

The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach returned the moment he was gone.

It was not one thing - it was everything. It was Hiroto and the lack of time to figure out how much of her life she was fine sharing with him, right now. She harboured no hard feelings for him but, even so, she knew better than to depend too much on anyone, least of all someone who had not been around for the past sixteen years of her life. It was Igarashi and his cold-blooded manipulation of every element or person or thing that could affect her. It was the fear of what her outburst during her hearing might lead to.

There. She had admitted it. She was scared. It was an almost new feeling - one Sarakshi was not used to - but it was there. If she'd gone back to where Marjani and Linda and Fenshani and Sora would be waiting for her, she knew it would dissolve into their half-baked attempts at humour. But she needed a minute alone. Needed a minute to herself to face that fact that - and it seemed as possible as not after how she had spoken up in the hall - she might be expelled, despite her past record and performance.

She sank to her knees in the vacant corridor.

"Quite an unattractive sight for a maid, aren't you?" A voice drawled.

She looked up. Igarashi was leaning against the door to her left, one hand tucked in the pocket of his slacks and large frame blocking the path as he surveyed her with cold eyes. His uniform was sleek and crease-free; over the pure gold cufflinks, his President's badge gleamed next to his red-and-gold Honour Student stripes.

She thought of the picture he had flashed on to the projector screen, and something seemed to tighten in her stomach. She would not let him get to her. She rose to her feet. "Given that have you to put up with your personality every day of your life, I'm sure you'd know all about unattractiveness," she said, sweetly. "Now if you'll excuse me -"

She made to walk past him. The action lazy, he placed a foot on the other side of the doorway, so that she would have to step over it to leave. She came to an abrupt stop to avoid being tripped, and almost fell over.

"Get out of my way. _Now_."

He took a step towards her, backing her up against the open door. His thumb and forefinger closed lightly around her wrist. "And what if I don't?" He breathed in her ear.

"Let go of me!" She jerked her forearm free of his grip.

His mouth curved into a sinful grin. "You didn't seem this eager to be let go of, a few nights ago. In fact, if I remember that little sound you made before you held on to me correctly -"

"Does everyone." Something seemed to snap inside of her. She could feel her hands shaking with anger. "Visualize duct tape over your mouth, so early into the conversation?"

"I do.." He caught hold of her tie in a movement too swift for her to block, and pulled her to him until she was less than two centimetres away from him. "Tend to give women ideas."

It was almost as if nothing had happened; almost as if he had never made a joke out of everything she had ever stood for, in a room full of over a dozen people. "What are you trying to do?" Her hand curled over his hand on her tie; she saw his eyes widen and that was all the element of surprise she needed - she pushed him back and shoved him into the wall, her leg slamming against his to pin him against the wall. "I worked a lot harder than you ever have in your life -" It wasn't true but she didn't care. If it could sting him - make him feel even an iota of what she had felt - she didn't care that she did not believe it - "To get where I am. Do you think you can do what you did in that room and expect me to talk to you without punching you in the stomach, ever again?"

If things had been different, the fierceness in her gaze and her utter lack of sense in pinning his leg under hers would have been just the right grounds for a bit of entertainment. Things weren't different, however. He'd wanted - needed - to pretend that he was unaffected. That whatever she was going through made no difference whatsoever to him. That he would be glad - that he _wanted_ - to see her go. But he couldn't, he realized. He couldn't pretend it gave him pleasure to hurt her.

"How dare you show that picture, when it is _nothing_ like the truth -"

"You're scared," he said.

She stopped short. Her eyes were large and full of shock. "I'm not -"

He took her face in his hands and raised it to his. He felt her go pale - saw her eyes widen - the pulse in her throat flutter under the hard strength of his hands - as if in a dream. There was a hint of fear behind the defiance in her eyes, and that it was actually there, left him stunned. His fingers traced the edge of her cheekbone, touched the corner of her mouth, and came to a rest on the wild flutter of her heart, in her throat.

She rammed her knee into his leg so hard, he winced.

"Don't you dare think you'll get away with that, ever again," she said.

Her chin was set, her shoulders squared, her tone all fire. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and push her into the wall and kiss her until she couldn't think of anything but the taste and feel of him. His eyes flickered away from her face - and met Marjani's.

He was standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the two of them, like shutters, unreadable, and the realization of what he was doing seemed to crash upon Tora like a tornado.

"You don't want the board to see you're scared," he drawled. "It'd give them the same kind of savage pleasure I get from giving Marjani a good show."

Sarakshi spun around... and met Marjani's eyes.

"They're calling you in," Tora said. His shoulder brushed Marjani's - Marjani did not move out of his path - as he disappeared into the hallway beyond, leaving the two of them alone.

Without a word, Marjani held out a hand.

She took it. The colour that seemed to have left her face, seemed to flow back in as she did so. "Where's Linda?" She asked with an attempt at a smile that did not fool Marjani whatsoever. "She stole my water-bottle."

"Waiting for you," he said.

-;-

The lack of fear she had felt when Linda had told her not to take too long finish "those old geezers" seemed to vanish the moment she stepped back into the hall. At first sight, it almost seemed as if nothing had changed. It was still well-lit at the back and - to aid the visual aids themselves - dimly-lit at the front, the deep red, velvet-coated chairs fixed in place behind glass desks covered with paperwork. But there was a taste of cold satisfaction in the air now that hadn't been there before, and it seemed to stretch over the place and compress it into half.

She knew what Shinji Shinomori would say, even before he had spoken the words.

"After a careful review of the data presented to us by both sides -" There was a certain distaste to Shinji's tone when he said both sides that reminded Sarakshi of Yuki - Yuki who would never raise her voice or bite a word, Yuki who was the antithesis of distaste - "We regret to inform you that our initial decision stands. You will be allowed to finish your current term at Miyabigaoka High School, and execute any responsibilities you've taken on during this time. However -"

But she was no longer listening. She thought of the picture in the last drawer of her cupboard, the way her mother's blue eyes stood out against the starch hue of her Miyabigaoka uniform; and as the rest of the people in the room rose to their feet, dismissed, she realized what she should have realized the moment Shinji Shinomori had first called her into his office.

She would never graduate from the school both her parents had graduated from.

x

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><p><em>Nothing like reading a new Maid-Sama chapter to get inspired. I have so many ideas for the next chapter. <em> :3

_As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed/ favourite'd/ subscribed/ stuck around. I always keep in mind everything that readers point out, especially the constructive criticism, and try to incorporate the latter in what I write. Your feedback - positive and constructive, both - helps me grow as a writer. And for that, I am beyond thankful_. You are all amazing.  
><em>_

__Over the months I've been absent/ not around so much, I've had a fair number of people inbox me to ask if they can stay in touch with me/ ask me stuff over FB/ Twitter/ some site I'm regularly active at. For obvious reasons, I'm not comfortable sharing my FB profile with everyone, so I was thinking of making an FB page where people can leave questions or comments about updates or chapters or whatever they want to. I'm not sure how many people think it's a good substitute, though, so I'll only make it if you guys actually feel it is. Please let me know what you think. ^_^  
><em>_

__With this chapter, I wanted/ tried to focus on the idea of friendship. The chapter title comes from the gorgeous lines 'People were people/ So their nightmares came through/ Now our world is full of the nightmares left from you,' from Broken Iris's song, __One Track Minded Age. __The quote 'Does everyone visualize duct tape over your mouth so early into the conversation?' is a random/ anonymous quote I came across in Us Magazine. Once again, any and all factual inaccuracies that might be in this chapter stem from my lack of knowledge on certain subjects; if you spot any, please feel free to correct them. ^_^_  
><em>

__Cookies if you review? And yes, if you give me cookies, I __will__ write faster. :D__


	25. martini Kisses

**chapter twenty five**

**martini KISSES  
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><p>x<p>

Tora was well-aware that he did not have to cause any more damage to his opponent, for said opponent to concede; his rival judoka was already hitting his hand against the mat to signal defeat. But as he tightened his grip on the young man, the Igarashi heir felt a brutal kind of satisfaction. How dare the young man challenge him, after Tora had defeated five judoka back-to-back?

"Enough! Tora!" Ukahara Sensei's voice was sharp and that – the realization that Ukahara Sensei wanted him to let go of the guy, Ukahara Sensei who encouraged them to be ruthless to the point where dislocated shoulders and snapped joints were not greatly frowned upon – made Tora realize that he had perhaps gone too far. He let go of the other judoka and rose to his feet, his face devoid of emotions as he was declared victorious.

"Who's next, then?" He drawled, looking round the circle of judoka – all of whom were known for their ruthless style of fighting, and none of whom dared to step forward now. "Or does no one think they're a match for me?"

"I think we've had quite enough of a show for today, Tora." Ukahara Sensei smirked, his voice betraying only the slightest amount of uncertainty for Tora's newfound bloodlust. Tora had always been one of his top-ranked students but – unlike quite a few of his batchmates, who enjoyed proving their mettle in the loudest, most conspicuous manner – he, Ukahara knew, had never actively _sought_ fights.

"I'll take him," a quiet voice said.

Tora and Ukahara looked up at the same time to see the dark figure that had stepped into the circle around the line of _tamati_. Tall, powerful and muscular, the figure's left arm sported a white armband – a sensei's mark.

"You're not a judoka." Tora's drawl was cold. "Now, if none of the _judoka_ feel capable of giving me a match –"

"Scared to fight me?" The dark figure asked.

Tora's eyes snapped to Marjani's face._ Scared to fight me?_ It was too apparent a bait for him to fall for, and Tora knew that Marjani himself would be well aware of that. "I understand it must be frustrating to not have had a worthy opponent since you took up a sensei's mantle, Suoh," he said, his voice polite to a fault. "But it would be irreverent to the rules of this dojo for us to fight, only to satisfy your need to have a rival who can kick your ass." He smiled a smile that was all sharp teeth. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

The circle of judoka parted uncertainly to give him way to pass – and Marjani laid a powerful hand on his shoulder.

"Gentlemen." Ukahara Sensei's sharp voice interceded before Tora could react - Marjani let his hand fall from Tora's shoulder at once. "I understand the two of you have something you need to sort out. But the Kasukage dojo is not the place to settle your quarrels." His eyes locked on to Marjani's, a silent reminder that the dark-skinned young man was no longer a student, but an instructor.

"My apologies." Marjani said; Tora could almost sense the effort it must be taking Marjani to keep his tone that calm. "I was looking forward to a match. Perhaps another time. Tora. Ukahara-san." He bowed low, then turned around and walked off.

There were several moments of silence in the wake of Marjani's disappearance. Then –

"What are you all looking at?" Ukahara snapped at the judoka still circled around the line of mats. "You're dismissed for today. And if tomorrow none of you can give Igarashi a fight, I'm downgrading all of you by a belt. Go on! You too." He punctuated the last two words with a bursque nod at Tora. "Out."

"Sensei." A hand behind his back, Tora bowed his head to Ukahara. Under normal circumstances, he would have headed to the shower room after that. Right now, however, his head was abuzz with the rush of blood and the sound of flesh against mat; without wasting another glance around the dojo, he headed outside, where his limo would be waiting for him.

Marjani's lean figure blocked his path.

"What is it, Suoh?" Tora met Marjani's eyes with freezing calm. "Haven't had your fill of being insulted by me, for today?"

"I want to talk." Marjani spoke with a flatness that did not surprise Tora, a flatness that held no sign that he had taken even the least amount of offense at what Tora had said.

"That's your problem." Tora's smile was silken. "If you'd done less talking and more doing these past few months, it could have been the little redheaded maid in your bed, not that tall blonde you can't even bring yourself to touch –"

"If you'd done less talking and more doing, you wouldn't have been dating Kaon Umekouji," Marjani said coldly. When Tora stilled, too taken aback by the unexpected comment to respond at once, Marjani wasted no time in stopping to gloat. "What the hell are you doing, Tora? You broke that boy's _ankle_." And that was only the third opponent Tora had fought today; he'd taken down two more after that, neither with any more kindness than he had shown the fourteen-year old.

"You're one to talk, Suoh. Or do you think you became a sensei at this place -" Tora met Marjani's eyes with a challenge - "Because of your infinite love and tenderness?"

Marjani's eyes darkened. "I have never attempted to hurt anyone, for the sake of hurting," he said, voice very, very soft.

"_That_ is your defense for every karateka you've sent whimpering off in pain?" Tora arched an eyebrow at Marjani. "I suppose that's where your little maid has been getting all her bright ideas for a defense from. Though come to think of it, even her pathetic defense at Miyabigaoka was better than -"

"That boy you injured." Marjani's voice was dark. "Was hardly fourteen."

"That _boy_ has broken his fair share of ankles," Tora said coldly. "Now, if you're done with lecturing me on the morality of judo –" He brushed past Marjani.

"I am," Marjani said.

Tora was aware of Marjani's gaze on his back; of the finality in Marjani's words. He felt a curious kind of numbing, the kind one feels before an implosion of pain. Marjani, he thought. Of all the people he knew, Marjani was the sole person he had thought – had _known_ – would never give up on him. He ought to be glad that he had driven Marjani Suoh to the point where even he had given up._ You wanted this,_ he reminded himself. Yes, he had wanted this. For them to give up on trying to mould him into an anti-hero he would never be.

For them to move on.

"I knew you'd see it, sooner or later." His voice sounded cold to his own ears; Tora supposed that was an achievement in itself. When he spoke, he did not turn around to face Marjani. "Though I must admit, it's been quite entertaining, watching you grapple with the idea that I might have no redeeming qualities, after all. Naïve thing, aren't you Suoh, despite that rough exterior?"

"Do you even understand what you've done?" Marjani's voice held a dark sort of rage. He caught Tora's arm and jerked the Igarashi heir around to face him; Tora let him do so with a calm that he had never thought he would be able to muster. "Do you think she can just walk up to another good school and get enrolled, considering you had her expelled? Goddamn it, Tora, you're ruining her entire future."

"Why don't you pull a few strings and save her then?" Tora said coldly. "Get her into some top-notch school that'll close its eyes and take her because you want her in your bed -"

Marjani threw a punch at him.

"Don't you ever." Tora's voice was ragged as he blocked the throw - he could feel the pure, unadulterated fury in Marjani's punch course through him in waves, as he caught Marjani's fist. "Try to hit me again."

"You were never this." Marjani jerked his hand free from Tora's grip, his eyes dark and full of rage. "You were manipulative and womanizing and unfair, but you were _never_ cruel without cause. I don't know what you've become."

"I realize how infuriating it must be for you to have to accept that I was whom I claimed to be all along. I understand you've been labouring under some delusion of my greatness, all this time." Flashing Marjani a sweet smile, Tora glanced at his watch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."

"I give up on you," Marjani said.

In mid-step, Tora stilled.

"I'm glad," he said, forcing his voice into the coldest tone he knew himself capable of. "Your need to act like we understood each other was beginning to seem ridiculous, even for you."

-;-

"How about this one?" Fenshani held up his laptop, his web browser open to the home page of a school with a rather long name. "Seems like a decent place. Look, the application doesn't even ask why you want to transfer."

"That is the best you can come up with?" Linda – one leg stretched out on to the table in front of her, the point of a bright yellow high heel grazing against the table's glass top – snapped. "I'd rather stay expelled then go to a place called Sakura BonBon, you know."

"Well, let's hear your bright ideas, then," Fenshani huffed. "Which place are you getting her into? Hibiya High?"

"Guys, cut it out." Sarakshi glared daggers at them from underneath the pile of high school admission forms and applications she was buried under. The two of them had been bickering since they had arrived at her apartment, half an hour ago. "The bickering isn't helping. Takihara, can you please download that school's form and history, and show it to me?"

"But it's called Sakura BonBon," Linda pouted.

"That place you dragged me to this morning to buy your high heels from was called Loo Buttons, but that didn't stop you from purchasing a lifetime's worth of shoes, did it?" Fenshani said drily.

"It's Louboutin, not Loo Buttons!" Linda said, aghast.

Sarakshi grinned. There was no way on earth that she could get the two of them to stop conversing like an old, married couple. Pushing back hair from her forehead, she dove back into the pile of forms Linda and Fenshani had collected for her. She couldn't deny the duo been an immense help in the search for a decent school. It was still two months before the new term started, but Sarakshi knew the sooner she started looking, the better – it would be hard to find a good school that would take her, despite the fact she had been expelled from Miyabigaoka Academy.. The doorbell rang, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"I'll get it." Linda said. She crossed the distance between the hall and the main door in a few quick strides, and unlocked the apartment door; it swung open to reveal Marjani, dressed in old jeans and a collared shirt.

"Linda." There was a quizzical expression on his face. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Fenshani and I dropped in on the way home," Linda grinned. "Come on in. We were just leaving."

"Please don't leave on my account." He bent his head to pass through the door, then paused in the doorway. "How is she?"

That, thought Linda, was quite the question. She wasn't sure if she knew the answer herself. "Fine." She frowned after a moment, glancing at the far end of the hallway, through which she could see Sarakshi seated on the floor, hair tied into a high ponytail and legs crossed. "I'm not sure if I hate or love that about her. Her ability to be fine, in any given situation."

"Marjani?" Sarakshi looked up from the pile of paperwork, and her face broke into a smile. She rose to wrap her arms around him, and the world seemed to still and collapse into all the right nooks and crannies. She would never, she realized, get used to this feeling: the way the world tilted on its axis and slid back into place the moment he was there. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"I wasn't expecting to see him either, so I guess we've all been duly surprised." Dropping an A4-size envelope on the glass table, Marjani glanced dryly at Fenshani.

"Nice to see you too, Suoh." Fenshani grinned as he rose to his feet. "Linda and I were just on our way out." He glanced at Linda. "Let's go?"

"Didn't take my surprise to heart, did you? I just dropped in to check in on Sarakshi. I'll take half a minute."

"Your half minute is the equivalent of several dinner dates," Linda teased. "We were actually going to leave in a few more minutes, though. I have to get home and he –" She pointed a thumb at Fenshani – "Is supposed to drive me back. Come on, Chauffeur Boy."

"I am not your chauffeur!" Fenshani said with a roll of his eyes, though he snapped his laptop shut and followed her out. "Red, I downloaded and printed the webpages you asked me to. See you around, alright?"

"Thank you for coming." Sarakshi gave Lind a half-hug and beamed at Fenshani as she accompanied them to the door to wave them goodbye. Pressing down the automatic lock into place, she turned around to face Marjani. "You too. Though I'm beginning to feel like an invalid, what with all the number of people who keep showing up."

"And here I thought you'd feel special." He smiled and held up one of the forms on the table. "What's this?"

"School applications." Rubbing her temples, Sarakshi retraced her steps to join him in the lounge. "I've been trying to find a decent place that'll at least be willing to listen to why I got expelled from Miyabigaoka."

"Any luck so far?"

"I've sent in a couple of applications. Somewhat hopeful as well, about a few places." Sitting down next to him, she leaned her head against his shoulder. "He knew, you know," she said softly.

He raised her face to his, the gentleness in his voice belying the raw strength of his hand. "Knew what?"

"Both my parents graduated from Miyabigaoka." Sarakshi half-smiled up at him. "Igarashi must have known that." She leaned her chin into the dark palm that cupped it, her heart no longer aflutter with restlessness – it always stilled into a sure sort of peace when Marjani was there. "I suppose that added to it. His desire to make a point. He always did like making a point."

"He sent me this." Voice wry, Marjani picked up the A4-sized envelope he had placed on the table earlier. Sarakshi turned it over; it held the Igarashi seal, though the seal was now broken. With nimble fingers, she flipped it open, took out the booklet inside… and narrowed her eyes.

It was a copy of the script for the annual play.

How much more of a mockery was he going to make of her? "He can't think I'd still consent to it," she said, one eyebrow arched.

"I'm quite sure he does." Marjani's voice was devoid of emotion. "Sarakshi. Look at me." When she refused to, her eyes stubbornly locked on to the envelope, he touched her chin and lightly lifted her face to his. "Let it be. You don't want him to make any more trouble for you."

"He can't make any more trouble for me." Her tone was incredulous. "He's had me _expelled_, Marjani, what more could he possibly do?"

"Make sure his side of the tale reaches whichever school you get accepted at," Marjani said, voice deadpan.

Her eyes widened. "He wouldn't." But why wouldn't he? She had thought he wasn't capable of hurting her in this manner. Without cause. Without reason. For no real purpose. But he _had_ had her expelled. She thought of how he had risen to his feet in the hearing, of what he had said, the picture he had flashed across the monitor, and a lump rose in her throat. Nothing was beyond him, she realized. _Why haven't I given up on him? Why am I still looking for a reason to his madness.._ "I can't live like this," she said softly. "This way, there'd always be something he can hold against me."

"I met him today," Marjani said. There was a frown in his voice, an almost puzzled one. "He…"_ Tried too hard to drive me away._ "He didn't seem very interested in either of us." He slipped the script back into envelope and let it rest there. "Go with what he wants for now, Sarakshi."

She wanted to ask him why, but she knew if he had been willing to share his reasons, he would have already done so. So instead of questioning him, she curled up against his side and looked at the envelope resting on her table for a long, long while. Then she looked up at him and nodded. In the end, she realized, there would never be any two opinions for her. If she were at the edge of a black hole and Marjani told her to jump in, she would always jump in.

"I trust you," she said simply.

"I know," he said. He needed her to keep trusting him on this.

-;-

There were two tasks Linda had never found very difficult - finding the perfect high heels, and finding President Igarashi.

Being able to find just the right high heels was a function of years of having visited all sorts of small, medium and large malls and shops to dig out the most gorgeous and expensive shoes. Being able to find the President during school hours?

Much easier. If he wasn't in class or the Student Council block, or accompanying Kanade Maki, he was without doubt in the company of several (often more) well-toned, curvaceous females. Wherever the hottest group of females around was, there you would find Tora Igarashi without fail.

"President Igarashi." Coming to a stop in front of the bench where Tora Igarashi was stretched out, his head in the lap of a dark-skinned brunette, Linda locked her hazel gaze with that of Miyabigaoka's Student Council President. "We need to talk."

Tora sat up in a movement that was as lazy as it was fluid. "Linda." He flashed her a sharp smile. "I'm quite sure you can see that I'm not free."

"I think you'd want to make time to hear what I have to say, President." Linda's own smile was a tad too sweet to be genuine. "I believe it affects Miyabigaoka's arrangements to impress the Suohs."

She had not expected to get a reaction out of him, and the utter lack of change in his expression did not disappoint her. He was too skilled at hiding his emotions to let something this small cloud over his features. He did, however, lean in to whisper something into the dark-skinned girl's ear, before rising to his feet and following her to a quieter corner.

"Now, if you could get to the point." His voice was cool.

Linda had not planned to waste any time. "I step down as the play's lead," she said, holding out her copies of the play's script.

"I see." He did not take the copies from her hand, leaving her standing there with the booklets held out in an awkward gesture. She _hated_ awkwardness - and it occurred to her that he must know that about her. "If that's all, then."

She should have let him go without a word. But when he turned his back to her to leave, she couldn't. "You were expecting this," she said.

"Yes." The one-word response was crisp and flat. "Yes, I was, Williams."

"Why?" There was genuine curiosity in her voice. It was her the two of them were talking about - Linda Williams, the blonde fashionista who never picked fights. The diplomat who refused to take sides when the stakes were this high. It was as unlike her to get into the middle of two persons' tussle, as it was for a starved cat to leave fresh milk untouched - it made no sense on any level whatsoever.

He half-turned to face her; the sunlight streamed through his hair and splashed on to his face, turning the golden eyes a deeper, darker colour. When he smiled, it drove her mad that his smile was _pitying_. "Because you're too scared to be selfish, Williams." He met her gaze for gaze, the curve of his mouth amused. Entertained. "Because, unlike me, you care."

She wanted to hold him by the shoulders and shake him hard. He had an understudy who could replace her at a moment's notice, she knew, but even then, how dare he pretend none of it affected him? Or was he telling the truth, after all? "You really don't care," she said, the surprise in her voice like a taste in her mouth. He'd wanted this to happen, she realized. Had been expecting this all along, perhaps from the moment he had signed her up - that at some point, he would do something that would force her to take a stand. Force her, who never took sides, to pick a side. "You bastard," she said. "You just wanted to show me what it feels like to have to choose. You don't care. You don't care at all."

"When was the last time you made a real choice, Williams?" His drawl was cold. "You're too scared to make choices. You don't even want Marjani Suoh. You just want whatever you have an excuse to not pursue. Whatever everyone else holds you back from. It makes you feel like you're a risk-taker. It makes you feel like your reason for not giving anything all you have, isn't fear. You disgust me."

Her eyes widened; but he had already walked off.

-;-

She was furious. Furious that her role as Igarashi's personal maid in the play had been expanded. Just two more hours, Sarakshi reminded herself as she swerved her bike a little too fast. Two more hours, and she would be done with this play - and Tora Igarashi - for good.

She rammed her brake just in time to avoid an oncoming vehicle she had not seen in her anger - her bike swerved, narrowly avoided a wall, and screeched to a halt that almost sent her flying into the air.

"You alright?!" Someone shouted.

"Yes, I'm so sorry! Thank you for asking!" Her smile fading the moment the worried drivers had scattered, Sarakshi resisted the urge to swear. How could she have been so careless? She was in no condition to be driving. Ignoring the stinging pain in her left knee, she eased her bike into Miyabigaoka Academy's Student Parking Lot. Then she removed her helmet, tucked it under one arm, and squinted down at her aching leg. She'd ripped her jeans open at both knees, and one of said knees was now bruised. Just her luck.

If she had to choose one word to describe the Miyabigaoka Academy's Open House, Sarakshi thought as she stepped into the school's vast lawn at long last, it would be grand. The Open House was a sight to see each year, but this year, the management seemed to have spared no expenses whatsoever: the decorations were a study in expensive beauty. Old and prospective students milled about with their families; though in another half-hour, Sarakshi knew, the place would be vacant as the crowd streamed into the school's largest auditorium for the annual play.

Ignoring the sting in her knee, Sarakshi made her way past the gigantic Haunted House - an extravagant set-up by the Arts Club, that boasted its association with several world-recognized interior and costume designers on every board and advertisement - and into the auditorium.

Only to be met by the sound of Daiki Hiroshi's shouts.

"You are late! You are late!" The five-foot-tall director shouted at her. "There is only half an hour before we start! Quick! Quick! Everyone else is ready!"

"More than enough time to change into a maid costume," Sarakshi muttered as she weeded through prop boys and extras to find the door to the by-now-vacant ladies' changing rooms - and stopped.

Propped against the main door to the Changing Rooms was Tora Igarashi.

Unlike her, he was dressed for the play: the expensive cut of his dress shirt stood in sharp contrast with her ripped jeans and blue t-shirt. His hair was brushed back in a manner that snapped one's attention to his perfect jawline, hard and angled against the crisp fabric of his collar. He'd been waiting for her, she realized the moment she saw his mouth curve into a lazy smile.

"Ishin." He said her name like a secret - slowly, lazily, suggestively. "You're half an hour late."

"Clearly you have a lot of time to waste, President Igarashi." She smiled sweetly at him. "If you've spent the past one hour standing next to the girls' changing rooms, waiting for me to arrive."

"I'm organizing this play," he said, his smile all sharp teeth. "In case you've forgotten, that makes you answerable to me."

Her eyes flashed. "What are you going to do, President? Take my case to the Disciplinary Committee? My late arrival is _obviously_ threatening your entire production. Oh wait. There's nothing the Disciplinary Committee can do - they've _already_ expelled me."

"Obviously." Ignoring her last comment altogether, he took a step towards her - she scrambled backwards, despite herself. What was he_ thinking_? "How do you propose we fix that, Ishin?"

"The only thing that needs fixing is your head," Sarakshi said sweetly. "And unless you want your_ face_ to need fixing, too -" She made to move past him, and into the girls' changing rooms.

"Endearing as your threats are, Ishin -" He caught her wrist and pulled her back to himself with the most casual show of strength. "You don't genuinely think I'd let you go without a punishment, do you?"

"If you don't let go of me this instant -"

"You will what? Scream? Shout? Cause a ruckus?" He lowered his lips to her ear. "You never were very ladylike," he murmured against her heated skin.

She felt shivers run up her spine as his breath grazed her neck. She hated it, how her body betrayed her when she least expected it. "What do you want from me?" She asked, refusing to jump at or leap back from his touch, and instead matching his gaze with a glare.

"I'm not sure you can last long enough for me to show you everything I want from you, Ishin, but for now, I suppose.." He drew a rough circle on the back of her wrist; when she jumped back at the sensation, he smiled lazily. "We can start with the basics."

"Get away from me -" She kicked him.

"You never learn, do you?" He made no move to block her leg; the kick landed hard on his chest. Then, as her eyes widened in concern, he smiled. "Look at you, all worried. Does it bother you that you still wish I were different?"

She placed a hand on his cheek and tilted his face to hers. "Does it bother you that the most interesting thing in your messed-up life is a girl who doesn't even want you close?" She asked, voice cold.

She was too close for comfort. That she had chosen to be this close - that she had leaned against him to force his gaze to meet hers - made him want to close the distance between them and capture her lower lip between his teeth. If she had so much as an iota of the things he wanted to do to her.."Does it bother you that your body can't back that claim for so much as a _single_ second?" He drawled.

A lump formed in her throat. "What do you want, President Igarashi?" She asked softly.

"I realize you're incapable of thinking I wouldn't want you, Ishin." His smile was all sharp teeth. "But I _was_ here to ensure you show up on time. Not fair that the rest of the world shouldn't have a chance to see you in that maid costume of yours, is it?"

"You're vile," she said, eyes widening, hand frozen against his cheek.

"I know." He removed her hand from his face with freezing calm. Then he had stepped back from her, leaving her standing there, her eyes wide, her hands limp at her side, the rise and fall of her chest furious. "About time you start acting like you know it too, Ishin."

-;-

Kaon Umekouji had had a horrible evening. It had taken her ages of effort to find that secret summerhouse Igarashi owned. She'd had to rope in two other people's help to get past the backtracking and double-tracking and creative slips he gave her. But in the end, when she had stumbled across the small summerhouse, she had thought it would be worth it. The place hadn't disappointed her either: the documents and invoices she had found in the safe had enough dirt amongst them to kill a few potential careers.

But nothing had worked out after that.

First there been Marjani Suoh, who had scared the living daylights out of her. If Tora hadn't had the redheaded girl expelled when she had threatened to reveal Marjani's past, she would have thought there was no iota of truth in what she had figured out - Marjani Suoh himself had seemed so completely unbothered by her knowledge. But the expulsion was small satisfaction, nothing but a means to an end. She wanted to one-up Tora until he agreed she was better than him, not see the back of some redhead!

Then there had been that disastrous encounter with the famous doctor. When she had confronted him with the knowledge that she knew about his illegal deals, he had gotten enraged and had somebody show her out of his house. She'd threatened to tell the media on her way out, but he had looked _absolutely_ nonplussed. She wanted to tell the papers just to get back at him for having her shown out, but Kaon knew she couldn't.

She wanted these people on her side against Tora, not pissed at her. But why were none of them _bothered_ that she knew?!

"Kaoru Maki-sama will see you, now," the footman ushered her inside a large, sparsely-furnished but still beautifully decorated room.

"Kaon-san. Please sit," Kaoru Maki, the mother of Tora's friend Kanade Maki said with a smile, waving towards a mat as she herself sat down. The footman bowed to both the women, and retreated from the room. "Any friend of Kanade's is always welcome to our home. How can I help you?"

"Kaoru-san, I have recently found something out." Kaon hesitated. She didn't want this meeting to be a disaster like all the others. Tact wasn't Kaon's strong suit, but she knew she had to act with a little more care than she had in the past. "I think it would be in everyone's best interests if I told no one and we could.. help each other out. Do you understand?"

Even as the wife of the rich Director Maki, Kaoru Maki had always been a very simple woman. Not for her were the trappings of drama or the allure of plots and schemes. She blinked an uncertain blink at the child in front of her now. "No, I don't, Kaon-san," she said, setting down the teapot from which she had been pouring tea for her guest.

"About.. Tora Igarashi," Kaon said, cheeks flushing a little.

"Kanade's friend?" Kaoru asked, surprised. Tora and Kanade were very close, she knew from the number of times Tora came over to see her son. "Is he in some sort of trouble? Is Kanade in trouble?"

Kaon's ears were now an angry pink. Did the woman have so little dignity, she wanted Kaon to spell it out for her? "About you and Tora," Kaon said. "Don't pretend with me, Kaoru-san, I went to Tora's summerhouse so I _know_."

Kaoru stared blankly at her. "Excuse me?"

Damn it. If the woman wasn't going to admit it herself, then Kaon had no choice. "I know you two have been sleeping together!" She said, arms crossed against her chest. She'd seen the invoices for all those lavish things Tora had picked up for Kaoru Maki - not regular lavish things either! Kaon highly doubted any married woman would send a friend's son to pick up exotic _perfumes_ and expensive _lingerie_ for her, unless there was a relationship involved. Then there had been those packages of lingerie Tora had had delivered to Kaoru's office. "Now don't panic, I'm not going to tell anyone. I know he's lecherous, he must have had something on you that made you agree. I just want you to cooperate -"

Kaoru rose to her feet so fast, the teapot fell over, splashing hot tea all over the table between them; Kaon sprang to her feet to avoid getting tea stains on her dress. "How dare you!" The black-haired woman said, both shocked and furious. "To accuse me of being with - a friend to my son - Kanade's age - How dare you -"

"Don't you try to pretend with me!" Kaon snapped. "I'm not threatening you, alright? I just want us to bring Tora down together!"

"You're raving mad." Kaoru said, aghast. "I'm calling your parents! Get of my house this instant."

Calling her parents? Kaon thought she might have a mini heart attack. No.. The woman could not call her parents. The woman_ wouldn't_ call her parents, Kaon decided, her eyes narrowing to slits. Not if she didn't want the world to know that she was sharing the bed of a man half her age. Her_ son's_ best friend to boot!

"You wouldn't dare," she said loudly. "You know you wouldn't. When I tell my parents the truth, you'll be ruined! You think Maki-san would want to stay with you, after he finds out?"

Kaoru's mouth was a thin line of icy anger. "Young lady, when I talk to your parents, you won't get to step out of your house for the next few years," The woman said, her hands trembling in cold rage.

Then she took Kaon by the collar and dragged her to the door of the room.

Slammed the door shut in Kaon's face.

-;-

Fashioned out of old pallets and reclaimed glass, the small summerhouse tucked away in a corner of the city was minimalist and beautiful. Even though it was the first time Marjani had seen it, he would have known it for something Tora had designed at first sight.

He looked down at the newspaper his hand was still curled around. _Miyabigaoka Academy expels student over part-time job_. Pretty much the same headline that every other influential newspaper was carrying today, though no local or minor paper had printed any word on the matter. His dark eyes scanned the contents of the article once more - a well-constructed piece against Miyabigaoka Academy's discriminatory policies, which had expelled a student over a waitressing job. There was no mention of who the student was, no indicator that could in any way have helped to identify the pupil - not even the pupil's gender. The piece was coherent, logical, anti-discrimination, certain to cause outrage in the philantrophic rich.. and too good to be just another cover article.

Standing at the door of summerhouse, Marjani took a deep breath. Snooping had never been his strong suit. _Digging through people's secrets is your job, dammit Tora, not mine,_ he thought with a sigh as he stepped in.

As he had known, Marjani found nothing inside. Not out in the open. So he walked up to the safe and punched in a code. Then another.

The third code he punched in resulted in the sound of a _click_ as the safe swung open.

Inside, was a plethora of documents. Birth certificates. Invoices. Letters. Marjani saw a contract that embroiled a well-known doctor in a deal with a pharmaceutical company, to prescribe only a certain product for a skin condition. A forged contract, he was pretty sure. An invoice for a list of expensive feminine care products and lingerie - attached to it, documentation for packages of lingerie that had been sent to Kaoru Maki. His mouth thinned into a straight line.

Then he picked up his cell and called Kanade.

"Marjani-san." Kanade Maki's voice was a smile on the other end of the line. "How may I help you today?"

"Kanade. Did you by any chance ever ask Tora to pick up an order you placed for your girlfriend?"

When anybody asked him about anything Tora had or hadn't been involved in, Maki smiled and did not ever give a straight response. But the person asking him wasn't anybody; it was Marjani. And Maki had known Tora long enough to be aware that when Marjani Suoh asked about Tora, you let Marjani Suoh have his answer.

All of it.

"Yes," he said. "Less than ten days ago, in fact. It was placed on the family tab."

The family tab, which Marjani knew without asking would be titled for Kanade's mother.

He looked down at the documentation for all those packages that had been sent to Kaoru's office.. and knew without a doubt that none of those packages had ever reached Maki-san's wife.

_Damn you, Tora,_ Marjani thought, as understanding rushed through him. _Damn you to hell and back._

-;-

Done. She was done for the night. Climbing down the stairs that led backstage, Sarakshi swept past the plethora of makeup artists, prop boys and extras milling around and - the moment she was out of sight of the crowd swarming right behind the gigantic stage - peeled off her elbow-length maid's gloves to toss them on to a table.

"_This_ is your costume?" A deep voice said.

"Marjani!" She looked up in surprise at the towering hulk of dark-skinned young man that could be no other than Marjani Suoh. "Shouldn't you be at the _other_ side of the stage?"

"I wanted to inspect what goes on behind-the-scenes in a Tora Igarashi production." Smiling wryly, he held out a hand for her gloves. She handed them to him; he flipped them over, and a frown crossed his features. "Would it surprise you if I said he spent a small fortune on these gloves?"

"Proof that money doesn't determine class, if we still needed any," Sarakshi said drily. "You dropped in to see how I'm doing, didn't you?"

"Your powers of deduction are second to none." Marjani's voice was laced with sarcasm. When she grinned in response and swept past him, he caught her hand and whirled her around.

"Sarakshi," he said, voice flat.

How could she have thought he wouldn't notice? That he wouldn't see the well-suppressed chaos in her eyes, recognize her need to avoid anyone and everyone who might possess the capability of noticing it? He knew. He always knew. Sighing, she allowed herself to fold into the circle of his arms, to breathe in the scent of soap and spice-tinted cologne that defined his presence.

"I hurt myself on the way here," she said, pulling up a fishnet stocking to reveal a hastily-bandaged wound over her left knee. "It isn't deep. But I was so furious, I wasn't even looking where I was driving." She might be reckless where every other thing was concerned, but she had never been a reckless driver; the realization that she could have hurt someone other than herself in those two minutes in which she had not been paying attention to where she had been going, left her stunned. "I can't believe I -"

"He let you go on-stage despite that injury?" It took her a second to realize that Marjani had stopped listening to her the moment she had mentioned the wound; his voice when he spoke, was dark. 'He'.. it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure out that the 'he' did not mean Daiki or anyone else on the team - the _he_ meant Tora.

"He didn't know. And it isn't anything serious." Voice soft, she touched his cheek with a hand. Even now, the darkness in his eyes sometimes made her want to take a step back from him. There was something raw and dangerous and powerful about it, about the way his eyes darkened and his voice deepened, something that made you realize from several miles off what a horrible idea it would be to piss Marjani Suoh off. "Come on, the play's ending." Behind her, she could hear the swoosh of gigantic curtains falling to the ground in a grand finish, only to be drowned out by the sound of a thousand people rising to their feet and bringing their hands together in a wave of applause that swept away every other noise. "I have to go get dressed. I'm required at the dance."

"He doesn't deserve you there,' Marjani said flatly.

Hand on the doorknob of the Changing Room, she turned around. "I don't think of the world in terms of President Igarashi," she said softly. "I'm going to the dance because I want to see the set-up Sora's team designed. Because I want to be there for the fireworks. Because I want to remember Miyabigaoka the way my parents spoke of it. What about you, Marjani?" She raised her eyes and locked them with this. "Do you think of the world in terms of Tora?"

He placed a hand under her chin and raised her face to his. "What are you trying to say?" He asked sfotly.

"That I wish I wish I knew why he's so important to you, you still can't let him go."

"He's family." Marjani's voice was flat.

She knew she was on shaky ground, but when had that ever stopped her? "Is that all there is to it?" She challenged. "Being cousins?" Or is there something more to it? Because he sure as hell doesn't deserve me there. But what he deserves even less is your faith in him."

There was a challenge in her voice; it would be so easy, Marjani thought, to rise to the bait, to tell her. But he had never been as naive as she was. Naïveté and beauty and unchecked emotions - she was the stuff predators' dreams were made of.

"And what about you?" He asked, smile sharp. "What makes _you_ think you deserve me?"

Her eyes widened. How could he turn this on her, just to avoid having to deal with his own unshakable faith in Tora? "You think I wanted this?" She said bitterly. How dare he think she liked, let alone wanted, any of this? "You think I wanted for you to fall in love with me, you think I wanted to not be able to return your feelings? "

"I'm not used to hoping, Sarakshi." His voice was curt; the tone felt like a physical blow to her. If he was going to do what he planned to do, he had to make sure she knew _she_ had made the choice. "You clench my shirt like it's the thing you most want to do in the entire world, and you think I can stand there and not feel a thing? What do you think I feel? That I could have you, if I tried. How off-bounds do you have to be to be off-bounds?"

"Don't," she whispered.

"Is the truth too much for you to handle? Does it shock you to know what your selfishness puts me through?"

"You'd spring this on me to avoid confronting your faith in Igarashi?" Hands on her hips, she stared at him, disbelief etched across every feature.

"I'm springing it on you so that you know you do the exact same thing as I do," he said, voice dark. "Avoid confronting your faith in him."

"This has nothing to do with Tora Igarashi." She felt a vague sense of shock that he could forge that connection here. Now. "How can you stand there, and say it like I do it on purpose? Like I.. Like I_ pretend_ to be off-bounds for you?"

"Because." His voice was dark. "You won't admit that you love him."

Her eyes widened. She thought of Tora's cheek beneath her hand, the way his breath had smelled of lemon and sake - Sake. Sake. He'd been drinking - and then she thought of the expression in his eyes when he had stood in front of an entire room of journalists and lied to them about what she did.

"The world may be binary for you, Marjani, but it isn't for me," she said. "Just because I'm not in love with you, does not mean I'm in love with him."

Later, she would go again and again over the harshness in her voice when she had said 'Just because I'm not in love with you,' and wish there was a way - any way - to take the harshness back. But there wouldn't be. Not right then. For now, though, all she felt was the crack in her heart where Marjani had held it together since the first time she had talked to him. Marjani, who could make anything and everything alright without even words.

Marjani, who shouldn't have to.

"I don't think we should see each other again for a while," she said softly, but he had already left.

-;-

The changing room with 'Ishin S.' marked across it was small but well-lit. As she opened the door with her name on it, Sarakshi could hear the noise level around her rise as actresses and extra swarmed into changing rooms, talking, laughing, undressing. By all accounts, it seemed that the play had been a resounding success.

"It was better than last year's!" Someone raved. "Can you believe that?"

"Did you see Kayoi's dress for the final act? What a gorgeous white gown that was!"

White? But she had thought the gown for the final act had been light blue.. "Sarakshi!" The knock at her door swept Sarakshi out of her thoughts. Linda's voice boomed over the babble of other voices, right into her dressing room. "Dressed yet? I'm waiting out here, woman."

"Just give me a second." Having redone the bandage on her knee, Sarakshi rose to her feet and reached for the dress she had left hanging on the peg in her dressing room.. and paused. It was gone. The plain white gown she had picked out for the dance was no longer there. Where on earth.. she turned around, scanning the room with a quizzical expression on her face.. and her eyes fell on the large, white box lying on the shelf, an expensive-looking label attached to it.

"Sarakshi?" Linda called.

"Just a second." Not quite sure what to expect, Sarakshi closed the distance between where she stood and the shelf. The box opened to reveal a layer of tissue and blotting paper.. and underneath it, the most beautiful evening gown she had ever laid her eyes on.

It was strapless, the lightest blue chiffon fabric that would track your outline as if it were made to cling to it. There were gems sewn into the bodice, large coloured ones that must have cost a small fortune, and huge crystal-clear ones that must have cost even more. Down the waist, the fabric uncurled in frothing, gleaming waves meant to swish around one's feet and legs. A lump rose in her throat as she let the gown unfurl to the floor; it opened like a stunning turquoise sea, an artful slit running up from its hemline up to its waist.

There was no name on the card, but she knew who it was from.

"You're taking too long, woman." Linda's voice boomed in from outside. "My date has called me five times by now. I'll catch you at the dance, alright?"

"I - yes. Sorry. Go on ahead." Shaking gravel out of her voice, Sarakshi ran a hand over the soft fabric. _Why, Igarashi,_ she thought, a lump in her throat. She'd thought what had happened earlier this evening would kill his need to play with her. But it hadn't, had it? What was he thinking? What was he planning? Was it not enough that he had dug up her past, turned her present upside-down, soured her future?

When she stepped into the dress, it clung to her as if it had been tailor-made for her.

And it occurred to her that it must have been.

-;-

The fountain was twelve feet of snow-white stone and silver-tinted foam. He could hear it - the fall of water crashing on painstakingly-carved rocks - over the music that floated out from inside the ballroom. In half an hour or less, the garden would be dotted with couples and friends who wanted a breath of fresh air or each other's closeness. Right now, however, it was vacant.. except for the occasional kitten, and the slender figure standing next to the fountain's rim.

"President." Her voice broke the silence around them. She did not turn to him; one of her hands was stretched out towards the fountain, and droplets of water touched it on their way down to the rocks at the base of the structure. Her hair was swept up, off her neck, and the wind blew a strand of it on to her cheek.

"It's a little disturbing that you recognize the sound of my footsteps, Ishin," he drawled in response.

She turned to him, and Tora was glad he had had years to master concealing his emotions, because the sight of her - the blue chiffon that clung to her waist and swelled over the curve of her breasts; the slit that ran up the side of her gown; the quiet peace that surrounded her in that moment, in every moment - took his breath away. "Not as disturbing as the level of your predictability, I'm sure." She smiled sweetly at him. "Where else would the rich, perverted President Igarashi be, except where he isn't wanted?"

"One would think." He placed a thumb beneath her chin; the touch that steered her face to his was so light, it caused her eyes to widen in surprise. "That you make no effort to not be left alone with me."

"Don't you have a dance to open?" She did not rise to the bait. "Won't the female population of Miyabigaoka go insane, without the famous Student Council President to open the ball for them?"

"I understand you've never been to a ball before, Ishin, but it takes all of ten minutes to open a dance. Not that I'd expect you to be able to finish a dance in ten minutes. Or finish one at all." His smile was all sharp teeth, the implication that she was uncultured clear as daylight.

"With a partner like you?" She smiled right back at him, ignoring the fact that he had just implied she was too clumsy to dance well. "I'd say ten minutes would be a little too much for me to handle."

"I'm talking about a dance, Ishin, not -" His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering over her lips and then dipping to the swell of her chest beneath the fitted blue bodice; she felt her cheeks turn red but she stood her ground - "Whatever fantasies of unadulterated ecstasy your imagination cannot stop conjuring."

"Given that you don't star in any of them," she glared up at him. "They _do_ involve unadulterated ecstasy." When his gaze dipped lower, from her mouth to her shoulder, she punched him in the chest; he blocked it with his free hand, without even looking. "Igarashi.." Her mouth turned into a frown.

"Ishin?" He grazed a thumb over her lower lip.

Her eyes narrowed. "How did you know what size would fit me?" She asked, looking down at the gown with a touch of uncertainty to her voice. She almost never bought clothes that fit.. had he gone to someone at Crème Maid?

She was genuinely curious, he realized. How could she feel so many different things at the same time, and that too for one person? Her capacity to feel so much at the same time would never fail to surprise him. He ran a finger down the strap of her gown. "I measured," he said lazily.

"What do you mean you measured?" She said, eyes narrowed.

He cupped both hands around her waist and pulled her body to his with a casual strength that caused her to gasp. "Like this," he said, spanning her waist with one rough hand. He felt her sharp intake of breath, and let his hand rest there, against the spot she was so sensitive at. Then his hand trailed up in the slowest possible manner, until he could feel her trembling underneath his touch. "And this," he said, his eyes never leaving her face as his hands came to span the base of her chest.

"You perverted little -" She was so surprised at the revelation - at the fact that he had actually measured her size with his _hands_ - that she forgot she hated him with such a passion, she could leave him to _starve__, _should such an occason arrive. "You _can't_ be serious!"

"Now that you mention it, the tailor _did_ seem a little scandalized by the measuring scale I'd used." He grinned a slow, predator-like grin at her. "And here I thought it was your utter lack of size over here -"

"Pervert!" She snapped, slapping his hand away from her chest. "Why the hell are you here, President Igarashi?"

"Why the hell are_ you_ here, is the question." He raised his gaze from her lips to her eyes, meeting her gaze. "One would've thought you would want to support Linda Williams on her first date with Fenshani."

Linda's date was _Fenshani_? Linda hadn't told her that. Sarakshi couldn't say she hadn't seen it coming, but even so, that it had happened so soon, surprised her. Then her eyes narrowed as she realized that had been Igarashi's plan all along: to surprise and sidetrack her, away from her original line of thought. "Why are you here, President Igarashi?" She said, sticking to her original question. "What on earth do you want from me?"

"The usual." His hand trailed downwards, from her waist to where the slit in her dress opened to reveal her leg. "Entertainment," he said lazily.

That he could use that word for her after everything that had happened - that he could refer to what he had done to her as 'entertainment' - sent a spark of anger coursing through her. "Tell me, President." She caught a fistful of his shirt and lowered his face to hers, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Does all your entertainment bother you so much, you have to ruin it to prove to yourself that it doesn't matter? Or was I the only bothersome person in your life that your influence could let you get rid of? I suppose no matter how much you hate them, it isn't like you can't get rid of Marjani or _your own damn father_, after all."

Eyes wide, he jerked himself free of her grip on his shirt - and she caught his wrist from behind before he could leave. How dare he think he could talk to her, after everything he had done? How dare he think she would let him, just so that he could satisfy his own vanity?

"I didn't." He did not turn to face her; when he spoke, his voice was like steel. "Give you permission to touch me."

"I wonder what you're going to do once I leave, President Igarashi?" She did not flinch or back down from the tone of his voice. This close, she could smell each element on the cologne he was wearing - musk and lemons and a tinge of wood. It made her head swim with a scorching sort of dizziness. She was aware that the position she was standing in put all her weight on her left knee, but she would not think about that now. "Isn't it a little sad you'll never find anyone half as interesting as me again?"

"I could say the same to you, commoner." He turned around, and his smile was cold. What on earth was wrong with him? He should never have come outside to see her, in the first place. But he had wanted to. He had thought she would never come to the dance. Even after he'd ensured she had nothing to wear except what he had left her, he had been certain she would do something - anything - other than showing up in a gown he had chosen for her. But she _had_ showed up. "You aren't here because you wanted to dance. Or are you like every other woman I know, after all? Was a fairytale gown and a box of diamonds -" He traced his thumb over the diamond-studded strap of her gown - "All you needed to sell yourself to me?"

"You have no idea what drives me." She matched his gaze with one of her own. "If you think you can break me because you can't bend me, if you think getting me expelled can put a dent in any of my plans for myself -"

"I think you're too scared to be of any real good to anyone," He said flatly. When her eyes widened in shock at the harshness in his tone, he refused to relent. "You can go around being nice to every living and non-living thing that you see, you can go around facing every problem as if it can't rankle you at all, but that doesn't cover up the fact that you're so scared of things going wrong, you refuse to even consider doing something bigger than yourself -"

She pushed him. Taken by surprise, Tora stumbled back. The action was so ungraceful on her part - so unexpected - that for a few seconds, all he could was stare. "You don't know me at all," she said, voice fierce.

"Oh?" He grabbed her wrist with no gentleness whatsoever and jerked her to himself. "Then why haven't you started your own restaraunt yet?"

Her eyes widened. She did not ask how he knew - she no longer cared. That was the difference between him and Marjani, she realized, though perhaps she had seen it long ago. Had just not wanted to admit it. Marjani could see what she felt in any given moment - no matter how sudden, no matter how unexpected, no matter how secret her feelings - without her having to say it. Tora Igarashi could see that and_ everything_ else.

"Because I'm not ready!" She said, refusing to back down from or flinch at his touch.

"Half the time you pretend to be studying, you're making plans," he cut across, tones freezing. "There is nothing you haven't planned for, Ishin, from the size of the tiles to the number of lights. Don't tell me you can't raise venture capital. Don't tell me you couldn't at least have attempted to take your plans to someone to look at. You've had so much go wrong in life that when it comes right down to it, you're too scared to even think of going after what you want. You're so scared it might fall apart, you can't even admit to yourself that you don't want to wait to do it. That you're ready to do it _right now_."

"What about you, then?" Hands on hips, breathing furious, she glared up at him. How dare he, how dare he know any of this about her, when all he had done was take away every single thing she had ever wanted? "When are you going to tell Genkei-san that you think you can do a better job than him, _right now_? You think I can't see through your arrogance?"

"It's adorable that you think your assumptions about me could hold any truth whatsoever." His tone was like steel.

"You think denying it makes it any less real?" She snapped. "You're so scared that you might not be able to handle all of that power, you can't even admit to yourself that you want it! You're terrified that it might turn you into someone you don't want to be - that it might turn you into your _father_ - so you can't even muster the guts to ask him to let you take the reins, _when you know he's spent the past one year waiting for you to ask_! You have some nerve to lecture me on being scared -"

He pulled her to himself and kissed her.

She resisted for two seconds; then she had raised herself and kissed him back.

He smelled of French cologne and tasted of wine. Underneath the flutter of her closed lashes, she was acutely aware of the scent, the dizzying, scorching, maddening taste as his lips grazed the sensitive skin beneath her ear, brushed across her jawline with a feather-light touch that caused her to gasp, found the corner of her mouth with a pressure that almost drove her mad, and finally descended on her lips.

She slid her hands over the hard planes of his face, her thumbs drawing circles on his cheeks, her fingers disappearing into the fine gold of his hair, as she lowered his head for their lips to meet. He was too tall for her. She was aware that she was stepping on his feet, the tips of her light blue heels driving into his shoes as she raised herself to him. Then - never breaking the kiss - he had raised her to himself as if she weighed nothing, one rough hand rising from her side to her face, to unfasten her hair and curl around her cheek.

Through the fabric of his shirt, she was very, very aware of the outline of hard muscles underneath her fingers, of the raw male strength that seemed to radiate off him in waves. His lips were urgent and dizzying and dominating on hers, sending waves of electricity coursing through her body; when he broke away from her less than five seconds, she gasped and clutched at the front of his shirt, certain she would go mad at the lack of contact. Then he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the back of her wrists. She felt herself tremble at the unexpected, breathtaking tenderness of the action. Gently, he kissed the backs of her hands. Her palms. The sensitive spot on the inside of her left wrist. He trailed gentle kisses from the inside of her wrists to her elbow and back, again and again and again, until she had given herself up completely to the rhythm of his lips and the infinite, breathtaking, maddening gentleness of his touch.

Then he raised his head and tasted her dusk-tinted skin all the way to the hollow of her throat.

She gasped and arched up against him as the hard touch of his mouth sent ripples of wildfire cruising through her. Her palms pressed flat against his chest, urgent and full of desire. Then one rose to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing gently over a closed eye, the straight line of his nose, the curve of his mouth. She tilted her face to his and pressed her swollen lips to his chin, moulding her heated skin against his sculpted chest as she kissed her way up his jawline – and he groaned, a pained, primal sound made deep in the back of his throat. Her world seemed to tilt into a landslide as it hit her - the realization sending electric surprise to the very tips of her toes - that he was holding back. Forcing himself to stay in a control he could barely muster. Forcing himself not to do anything that she wouldn't want, even if her touch made him desire it so badly, it left his whole body ablaze with need.

"President Igarashi?" An uncertain voice said.

Sarakshi's eyes flew open. She had a second's view of him - he looked like a fallen angel, beautiful beyond a shadow of doubt with his tousled hair and unbuttoned shit (Had she unbuttoned it? She couldn't remember having done so), dark shadows smudged under wide eyes, his expression a mixture of insane control on himself and insane need for her - before his features smoothed over into an expression that no one could have read. No one but her. The tips of her heels met the grass with a soft _thud_ as he gently lowered her to the ground, and reality seemed to rush in, in a stream of shock and sheer disbelief. What had she been thinking?_ He had you expelled. He has never, not once, missed a chance to play with your life, antognize your friends, ruin your plans -_

The gentleness with which he removed his arm from around her waist left her eyes wide.

"Kaiyo." When he addressed the girl who had interrupted them - the dark-skinned girl she had often seen him with, in Miyabigaoka; the one who had played the lead in the play, tonight - his voice was so calm, it should not have been possible. "Something I can help you with?"

"I -" The girl looked from him to Sarakshi, then hesitated. "I'd been hoping to talk to you at the dance. I didn't realize I -"

"Interrupted something?" Sarakshi swept her hair up and twisted it back into its bun. "You didn't. The President and I were just clearing some matters up. President." She bowed to him, then swept past him.

He caught her wrist and turned her towards himself.

"You're leaving," he said, voice soft.

It was as much of a question as he would ever ask her, she realized. _You dragged my reputation in front of half a dozen journalists, and fifty-odd old men I could have gone to for venture capital,_ she wanted to say._ If you knew me better than everyone else, how could you not know that staying in Miyabigaoka mattered more than anything else?_ But of course he had known. Of course he had. He simply couldn't help using what he knew, against the people who dared to care for him. She couldn't fix him. Perhaps at some point in the past, she could have tried. But that had been before he had had her expelled. Before she had realized was beyond being fixed.

"Yes," she said.

"Don't," he said softly.

She hadn't expected him to say that. She hadn't expected him to say anything at all to her. She wasn't certain what hurt more, the fact that he had let go of all of his pride and control to not just utter that one word, but to utter it in front of someone else - or the fact that it was too late for any utterance.

"I can't," she said.

And when she gathered the folds of her dress and left, she was quite aware that he had put all of his pride at stake when he had attempted to stop her, and that he would never do it again.

-;-

She seemed to burn with the taste of spice and wine where his mouth had claimed hers. Sarakshi thought of his lips against her shoulder, his leg pressed against hers through the slit in her gown, the sound he had made in his throat when she had touched his cheek, and something seemed to snap inside of her.

How much of a fool could she be, to let him kiss her after everything he had done?

To kiss him _back_ after everything he had done?

She hated her body for its betrayal.

She smelled of his cologne. Sarakshi picked up her overcoat from the coat room - the piece of clothing fell around her in a comforting swish of warm, soft fabric and she breathed in its scent in an effort to rid herself of his perfume - and headed out of Miyabigaoka. The place was still swarming with men and women, boys and girls; a few she recognized waved to her as she headed out, no one other than her ready to leave yet. And she? She wasn't just ready to leave for the night. She had no intentions of returning to this school, ever again.

Steps brisk, she walked up to her bike.. and paused. A man she did not recognize was standing there, clearly waiting for someone. He straightened when she arrived.

"Ishin-san," he said, his voice polite.

"I'm not quite sure I know you." Sarakshi's voice betrayed the wariness she felt.

The man smiled: it was a perfectly polite smile. "I apologize for catching you unawares. I'm Kin Kamenashi. I work for the Igarashis. For Genkei-sama, to be precise." He held out an Employee ID card.

"Executive Assistant?" Sarakshi's eyes narrowed. What did any man who had to do with Genkei Igarashi, want with her? Having one manipulative Igarashi in her life was more than enough trouble. "Why are you here?" She asked bluntly. "If you're with Genkei-san, shouldn't you be inside the auditorium?"

Kin smiled. "Genkei-sama wishes to see you," he said politely. "His limo is waiting for us -" He motioned to a distant corner and, looking up, Sarakshi's saw the silver limousine she had seen once before, when Genkei Igarashi had come in person to invite her to some ball Tora had manipulated him into inviting her to. "There's something he would like to discuss with you, Ishin-san."

Sarakshi did not like the sound of this. "I'm not sure I understand," she said softly.

"Perhaps you would care to ask Genkei-sama yourself?" Kin motioned towards the limousine that stood behind him, all gleaming metal.

Sarakshi arched an eyebrow. She was not in the mood for games - Her head buzzed with the scent of Tora's cologne, and she could still taste him in her mouth. "He can't have seriously thought I would agree," she said. "He knows me better than that."

"I don't think you understand." Kin smiled again; this time, however, it was not a nice smile. "You see, you don't have a choice. If Genkei Igarashi-sama wants to talk to you, Ishin-san, he _will_ talk to you."

"He's welcome to step out of his silver-plated limousine and do just that," Sarakshi said. Giving Kin a sweet smile, she swung a leg over her bike. "If not, I have a home to get back to."

Kin took a step towards her. It was a calm step but the threat in it was clear: Sarakshi turned her bike to face him and held her ground. "You're blocking my way," she said, voice undaunted.

"I see why you intrigue Tora," a soft voice said.

Her eyes snapped up to see Genkei Igarashi standing there. He was an older version of Tora - he had the same air of supreme self-confidence, the same arrogant smile, the same elegant manner of holding himself. When had he climbed out of the limo and closed the distance between their vehicles? She had never noticed. "Igarashi-san," she said, voice flat. "How nice of you to come yourself. To think I'd almost been convinced that you'd let your minion do all the dirty work for yourself."

"I do apologize if you've felt threatened, Ishin-san." Genkei's voice was all culture and sophistication. "That was never the intention. Kin merely wanted to extend an invitation. Would you care to join me? There is something I would like to discuss with you."

She crossed her arms against her chest. "What is with you Igarashis and your need to turn everything into a manipulative drama?" She asked. "You can say whatever you have to say, right here!"

"Yes, I can definitely see why you intrigue Tora," Genkei said softly. "Tora's ever-changing female interests aside, however, I will ask you one last time. There is something I would like to discuss with you. You have nothing to fear from me. Will you accompany me?"

It was a mark of how insane the past few weeks seem to have driven her, Sarakshi thought quietly, that the thing that most offended her about his statement, was that he had lumped her in with his son's ever-changing female interests. "I am_ not_ one of your son's ever-changing female interests," she snapped. "Now if you'll step out of my path -"

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Ishin-san." Genkei's voice had turned cold. "I do not enjoy having people, least of all women, manhandled. That does not, however –" His tone was brisk and businesslike and Sarakshi knew, at once, that he was serious now. "- mean that I am above it."

She was aware that almost everybody she knew at Miyabigaoka - and certainly everybody she didn't - was packed inside the gates of the school: should Genkei attempt to execute his threat, she was on her own. Was it even possible for so much happen in one night? "Is that a threat, Mr. Igarashi?" She asked, voice soft.

"That depends upon you." Genkei's face was deadpan. "As I said, Ishin-san, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I would prefer the former over the latter but, if you force my hand, I will have to resort to more… extreme methods."

"No." Sarakshi folded her arms across her chest. "I have no idea what you're playing at, Igarashi-san, but no, I'm not talking to you any longer. I am going to ask you to step aside one last time."

"I see." Genkei said softly. "I apologize for this in advance, Ishin-san."

-;-

He hated it. The anger, the distance, the indecision, all of it. How could he, after all those years of keeping his emotions in check, have fallen for a girl he should have known was off-bounds? Unclenching his hand, Marjani swung a leg over his bike.

His cellphone rang.

He reached for it to switch it off... and paused. The caller ID was not just familiar; it was trouble. He flipped open the cover and when he spoke, his voice was calm.

"Igarashi-san," he said.

"It might interest you to know." Genkei Igarashi sounded quite, quite affable. "That I have your little redheaded girlfriend with me. Perhaps you'd like to speak to her? Oh, my bad. She _isn't_ in a room with cellphone reception."

His grip on the cellphone was so tight, it was a wonder it hadn't snapped. Marjani took a deep breath and when he spoke, his voice was cold, "What do you want, Genkei?"

The name – the first time Marjani had used it – was said with such an utter sense of distaste, Genkei's eyes narrowed. "You have half an hour, boy," he said, tone cold. "You know where to find me. Unless, of course." He smiled. "You would rather I let someone have my way with the little chit of a girl."

"I do believe you've called the wrong person, Igarashi-san."

He hung up.

Genkei's eyes widened in pure disbelief.

-;-

There had been times when it had seemed to Marjani, that the main purpose of Genkei Igarashi's life was to make _his _a living hell. He had never thought, however, that the man would go this far.

Was he furious? Yes, he was. Panicked? Without doubt. Mad enough to wring Genkei's neck? Of course.

Was he going after her?

No.

He flipped open his cellphone, and did the one thing he knew he would later regret.

He punched in Tora's number.

"Calling to check up on your girlfriend?" Tora's voice on the other end of the line, was a drawl. "You needn't have worried. She resigned from the play. Not that I'd have taken advantage of her, even if she hadn't. Even I'd feel a little guilty, if I kept taking _everything_ you wanted."

Linda was seeing Takihara, but Marjani knew Tora would be well-aware of that. "You're losing your touch, if you think it's possible to take advantage of Linda Williams, unless she wants to be taken advantage of," He drawled.

"And you, of course, would know," Tora said, sweetly.

Marjani's eyes narrowed. "Your father seems to have decided it would be convenient to borrow Sarakshi for a while," he said, voice cold. "She has half an hour. Good luck fixing _that_ mess, Tora."

He cut the call and switched off his phone. Swore. Swerved.

Never saw the truck coming his way.

-;-

The call disconnected. Tora felt it like an iron line tearing up his stomach: the kind of out-of-control panic he had not experienced in a long, long time.

"Damn you, Marjani."

He punched in Marjani's number, but there was no response. He knew at once that Marjani had switched off his cellphone and would not – not on pain of death – switch it on within the next half hour. He knew and yet he tried again. And again. And again.

Then he hurled his cellphone at the wall.

It collided with the wall and broke. Not broke. Shattered. Parts and pieces flew all over the place. He stood there, aware that he had done something that was not just uncharacteristic of him; but not _him_ altogether. If someone had told him several months ago, that he could and would lose control over a girl, he would have laughed.

"I'd ask, ya know," a voice said. "If I thought you'd tell."

He turned around. Linda Williams stood there. She was wearing a lilac evening dress that glinted in the light. There was a drink in her hand. She dropped it lightly on a tall lampshade as she stepped towards him. "Let me guess," she said. "Sarakshi?"

"That is." Tora's voice was cold. "None of your business."

"Why are you still here?" She raised an eyebrow. "It must be pretty terrible, for Marjani to choose to stay out of it. Or are you too worried about not being here while everybody celebrates your success with the Open House? Too scared they won't credit it to you, if you aren't here?"

Tora's eyes narrowed. When he spoke, his voice was like ice. "You're dumber than you look if you think anything else matters, where she's concerned," he said, his face unreadable.

There was a moment of silence in which both of them chose to ignore the fact that he might have made the first real admission of his life.

"Go on, then," she said, voice quiet. "I'm sure I can cover up for you for one night."

He picked up his coat and turned around. At the door, he paused.

"Marjani means more to me than he does to you," he said.

"You're wasting time, Prez."

"But." He continued, as if she had never spoken. "He needs you more than he needs me. Don't give up on him."

Then he was gone.

Linda straightened up and looked down at her wristwatch.

If he wasn't back within the hour, she had better inform someone something was up.

x

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><p><em>It took me three days to write this chapter, and a week to edit it. However, it has taken me a whole year to be able to find the emotional and physical space and time to get it all down. In the past year, a lot has changed, including the way I write, and what I write about. To the best of my ability, I have tried to keep this fanfic 'Seduction-like,' and retain the structural plot/ etc. elements that made this story what it was. Wherever I have slipped, I apologize._

_If I follow the outline I've created for Seduction, there should be two more chapters before the story ends. In the last few chapters, I tried to make Seduction a more inclusive story that focused on more than just romance and drama - I wanted it to be about friendship as well. As Seduction ends, though, I realize that I need to wrap up all the plot points and different elements, which means things will simultaneously get faster, more intense and more dramatic. And yes, focus more on romance/ drama, which is always what this fic was meant to be about. This story is not ending as I imagined it would, when I first began to write it three years ago. However, quite a few of the parts were taken verbatim from my first draft of Seduction (written back in 2011), so I suppose not everything has changed. ^_^_

_The title for this chapter comes from the line 'Martini kisses land' in the stunningly-written_ Martini Kiss_, by Senses Fail. _

_For returning readers (if any are still left ._.) thank you for your infinite patience for sticking with this fanfic. For new readers, welcome aboard._

_Thank you to everyone who took out the time to praise, criticize, favourite and subscribe. _I am humbled by the continued love and support.  
><em>_

__(And yes, special thanks for all the virtual cookies. Imagine how much longer this chapter would've taken without them. :'D) __

**EDIT: I am just now going through the reviews. Two things:  
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1. A lot of people asked about my health/ eyes. I'm doing fairly well, though my eye condition hasn't gone away, and probably never will. Thank you for asking. Right now, it's more real life (university, exams, jobs, relationships) that has been keeping me busy, rather than any sickness.

2. There are some reviews that've been left by guests/ unregistered users, who I can't PM. So I will reply here? Obviously, I can't reply to each individually (there are a LOT), so I'll try to answer any important points or questions.

Lilli: I'm so glad you enjoyed the story. ^_^ And Tora's 'badassaery' (?) I liked both reviews. :D

To the guest who told me to read Daniel Silva's Remambramdt Affair: On it!

To the person who said 'i have given you the fucking cookies 7 times'... thank you for all seven times? :'D Dear God. You made me laugh out loud.

To everybody who hates me for not updating: Sorry, real life. (I understand it sucks to wait. Trust me, I do. But real life kind of kept happening, and I didn't want to take this down.)


	26. Hope (dangling by a thread)

** ** chapter twenty six**  
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**HOPE (dangling by a thread)**

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Sarakshi felt dazed. Her head was spinning, like she had not had enough sleep the night before, and her room felt outlandish and unfamiliar.

She sat up with a start.

She was curled up on a soft, velvet couch, the hem of her evening gown draped over an arm-rest, and uncurling to the floor in a sea of blue chiffon. The room around her was definitely not her own – done in subtle cream and royal purple, it boasted of a grand piano, a massive golden chandelier, and a soft carpet that flowed like old silk.

The events that had happened before she had lost consciousness flooded into her mind, and her eyes narrowed. The last thing she remembered before the world had spun around her and faded to black, was Kin Kamenashi stepping towards her at a nod from Genkei.

What did Genkei Igarashi want with her?

No. That was not the question: she knew what Genkei Igarashi wanted with her. She was his plan to disrupt someone's life. _Whose, though?_ She wondered. Tora's? Or Marjani's? What was she missing out on, here?

It was clear she had been carried inside the room and left on the sofa, to regain consciousness in her own good time. Though how much time that had been, she had no idea. Her hairclip had come lose but her dress was unruffled, nothing out of place. It seemed Genkei had been truthful about one thing, at least – he did not have a penchant for mishandling women.

Stunned at the realization that the man might actually think he _wasn't_ doing anything wrong, because he hadn't physically harmed her in any way, she rose to her feet in a swirl of eggshell blue fabric. Then she walked up to the door and turned the knob.

The door did not open: it was locked from the outside.

-;-

"I'm not sure we should do this," the first man standing on the rooftop said. He had a wild mop of ginger hair, and his voice was as uncertain as the expression on his face.

His brown-haired companion, Ginjiro, grinned. You couldn't have told by the grin that Ginjiro was frustrated at having had to climb up poles and cling on to windows to reach the roof – with only two storeys, the Sykes Building might have been the lowest building in the Igarashi Foundation's compound, but the climb was still a difficult one. He'd make it worth his time, though, he promised himself. "Don't be so nervous, Kosuke," he said, rubbing a sore spot on his leg as he made for the door across the roof. "This is gonna be worth it."

"But what if Igarashi-sama finds out –"

"He's fired us, you idiot!" Ginjiro snapped. "If we can get our hands on the girl we saw Kamenashi carrying into that room, we can make a lot of trouble for him!" It was not uncommon for men with as much power and influence as Genkei Igarashi to have mistresses, but Genkei had always had a crystal-clear record on that account – no one had ever seen him be coy with any woman but Mina Igarashi. It was a stroke of luck Ginjiro had seen that girl being rushed into a room at Genkei's orders. If he and Kosuke hadn't hung around to beg for a second chance even after almost everyone else had been told to leave for the day.. But the two of them didn't need to beg anymore. Not if they could get their hands on the girl.

Much as he wanted to have some sort of leverage over his former boss, Kosuke was not convinced this was a good idea. What if it didn't work out? What if something went wrong? Kosuke didn't want to go to jail for even _longer_ –he was already facing a prison sentence, now that Genkei Igarashi himself had found out that he and Ginjiro had been attempting to embezzle from the Igarashi Foundation. "I'm not sure about this," he stuttered. "I don't want to go to jail!"

"We're already going to jail, you idiot," Ginjiro snarled. "If we can get proof that he's been having fun with girls half his age, he'll have no choice but to let go of the case he has against us!"

"Are you sure?" Kosuke still sounded scared. "I don't want any more trouble."

Ginjiro grabbed the thin man by the collar and pressed the muzzle of a silver gun against his chest. "Do you or do you not want to get rid of the prison sentence hanging over our heads?" He demanded.

"I do!" Kosuke squealed, his eyes fixed to the gun. "Don't you shove that thing in my face, Ginjiro! What if it goes off by accident?!"

Ginjiro smiled. "It won't, you fool. I know how to use it."

-;-

Had he been mistaken?

Genkei Igarashi was not a man used to failure, and Genkei Igarashi was not a man who liked being mistaken.

It seemed he _had_ been mistaken about Marjani Suoh's relationship with the redhead, however.

He looked down quizzically at the folder on his desk. The information inside it made it more than clear that there was a close relationship between the two_._ He had assumed that, in the worst case, it would be one-sided, with Marjani pining for the worthless maid. (But then, what else could he expect from street trash like Marjani Suoh?)

It had never occurred to him that Marjani might not care, after all.

But how was that possible? Genkei's hand clenched into a fist as he stared at the folder of evidence on the desk in front of him. Damn that Marjani Suoh. The boy was attempting to play with him – had attempted it all his rotten life! Did he think disconnecting a call and switching off his cellphone could fool an Igarashi?

In the distance, Genkei heard a door slam open.

Something like a smile flickered around his mouth.

So Marjani was here, after all.

There was the sound of another door being broken open. Yells and shouts. Genkei picked up the headset of an intercom off the wall. "Kin," he said, his voice cool. "Tell the Suoh boy he needs to calm down and let himself be restrained, this instant. He's going to have to agree to a few requirements of mine, if he wants to see his girl again." Such as _never_ contacting Tora again, Genkei thought with a sudden upsurge of rage. He had never been able to get those two to agree to that. Even Tora, who should know better than to talk to a bit of filth like Marjani Suoh!

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir."

Genkei's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?" He demanded.

"You see." Kin's cool voice was professional to a fault. Genkei Igarashi had hired him for his calm in critical situations, after all. "We have a bit of a problem. It isn't Marjani Suoh who's causing the ruckus."

He paused. Genkei had a feeling Kin was thoroughly enjoying whatever was happening in the background.

"It's Tora-san," Kin smiled.

-;-

Locked? Sarakshi turned the knob again. Yes. It seemed Genkei Igarashi had locked her in.

_Did he honestly think that would _keep_ me in?_

Disgruntled, she walked over to the other side of the room, where another door stood behind a pile of purple velvet curtains. Pushing the curtains aside, she blinked at the scene she could see through the glass-pane at the top: the door opened into the building's vast rooftop, where two men were standing, conversing heatedly.

Then she realized the two of them were coming towards the room.

Who on earth –?

She jumped back as the doorknob rattled and the door flew open.

Then the men were standing in front of her. One of them was brown-haired and slit-eyed; he wore a sly grin, and sleeveless T-shirt that showed off powerful muscles. The other had ginger hair and a rather dumb expression. Up close, she could see that neither wore an employee ID.

"Gentlemen." She smiled drily at them. "I don't suppose you've ever heard of knocking."

The red-haired one stepped into the room and smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Look at the little mistress all dolled-up, Ginjiro."

Little mistress? Dolled up? What? Sarakshi had no idea who these men were, but she did _not _want them anywhere near here. "I have no idea who either of you are, but if you'll excuse me." She brushed past them and had swept out on to the roof before either of them could react.

"Don't let her go!" Ginjiro snarled and it took her a moment to realize the brown-haired man was talking about her. In the second it took Kosuke to spring to his feet and leap after her, Sarakshi had picked up the folds of her chiffon dress, and made a run for the staircase.

"You can't outrun us, girl!" Kosuke snarled as he caught the back of her dress. "Stop struggling! We don't intend to hurt you!"

Sarakshi didn't care _what_ they intended. She turned around and, without wasting any words on a response, landed a kick on Kosuke that he had neither seen coming, nor thought her capable of. He let go of her with a scream of agony, as the tip of her high heel drove straight into his chest.

She had less than a second to register that high heels were not as useless as she had thought, after all, before Ginjiro's shoe slammed down on the hem of her gown, and his arm came around her waist in a vice-like grip.

"Nothing personal," he said sleazily. "We're just getting back at your master."

-;-

_It's Tora-san_.

If Genkei had ever been shocked into silence, it was now. He would have liked to put his exceptional talent for being able to make excellent on-the-spot decisions to use. That talent, however, seemed to have deserted him. Gone on extended vacation.

"Seems you got the news," a voice drawled.

Heart half-jumping out of his chest at the sudden sound, Genkei looked up, right at Tora.

"Hello, father." Tora's smile would have scared the devil himself. "And here I thought it was the success of my play you seemed so excited about, in the front row."

Genkei set down the headset with a resounding _slam _and said one furious word:

"Explain."

"How your entire security team was incapable of restraining an eighteen-year old?" Tora drawled. "I think it had to do with them being unwilling to use any damaging force on your only heir, though –" He met Genkei's furious expression with a wicked smile. "I'm sure I could have taken on all of them, even if they'd tried."

"Don't try to play games with me!" Genkei snapped. Did this kid, less than half his age, think he could toe it out with _him_? He who had inculcated that calm façade, that refusal to panic, in this boy in the first place?

"I _never_ try," Tora said coldly. "Now, shall we get down to business? What did you do with her, father?"

A single scream broke through the air.

It was coming from the roof.

Genkei's eyes widened; then he had been slammed into a wall. His pupils expanding in shocked disbelief, he looked up to meet his son's freezing gaze.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Tora?" The older Igarashi spat.

"Where is she?" There was rage in Tora's voice – a cold mad rage Genkei had never heard in it before – and how clear and intense it was, left the man stunned. "What the _hell_ did you do to her?"

"You should know me better than to think I would order an attack on a girl!" Genkei hissed.

"Know you better? Where Marjani is concerned, you would do _anything_, no matter how cruel or useless or pointless. You have been doing cruel and pointless things to get to him for the past six years, goddamn it!"

It was the first time Tora had used an expletive in front of him. That was not, however, the reason Genkei's eyes widened. Tora could not have cared less, either way. He let go of him in one rough movement, burst up the staircase that led to the roof, kicked the lock off the door at the end... and stilled.

The muscular brown-haired man who liked to pick fights – Ginjiro Denji, if Tora remembered correctly – was gasping in pain, while the tall, thin Kosuke Kota clung to a pillar, red-faced and out-of-breath.

"Hold her down," Kosuke shouted to his companion in plain terror. "Do something, Ginjiro! Anything."

"I thought I told you," Sarakshi's voice rang around the rooftop as she took one firm step towards the ginger-haired man. "That I would hit you even harder, if you spoke."

-;-

Her feet were sore and swollen from fighting in heels, a feat she had not even thought possible before this evening; her hands ached where she had attempted to hit Ginjiro, and crashed her fists into the brass-knuckles he was wearing instead.

"Ginjiro!" Kosuke shouted in terror, as he backed off from her.

"I don't care what your agendum was." Sarakshi kicked the semi-torn edges of her gown out of her path with the edge of a heel, as she stepped towards Kosuke Kota. "I swear, if I ever hear you even thought of attacking or taking advantage of someone weaker than you again, I'm going to track you down and kick you where it's going to hurt much, _much_ worse. Is that understood?"

"Y-yes," Kosuke squeaked. "It is!"

Ginjiro attempted to clamp a hand over her mouth from behind, before she could respond. She rammed her elbow into his chest - when he jumped back, there was the sound of ripping fabric as the hemline that had been hanging to her gown by a few strands, was torn clean off. Then he slammed a fist rimmed with brass-knuckles into her stomach. She doubled over in pain, allowing Kosuke the chance to spring to his feet and restrain her arms behind her back.

"Let her go," A quiet voice said.

Ginjiro and Kosuke looked up at the same time. Tora Igarashi stood at the door that led to the roof, the picture of perfection in crisp dress pants and a high-collared shirt. His feet kicked up dead leaves and pine cones as he took an unhurried step towards the two of them. "Gentlemen." His tone was conversational. "I thought I asked you to let her go."

Kosuke's hand fell limply to his sides. There was something about the younger Igarashi's casual smile that made his blood curdle. "Igarashi-sama!" He squeaked. "I apologize!"

Ginjiro's face had gone a furious shade of purple. "No!" He snarled. "Kosuke, get back over here!"

Tora took a step towards the muscular man, and fear lit up Ginjiro's face like a lantern in the dark. Then he had twisted Sarakshi's arm behind her back, and shoved her to the very edge of the roof.

"If you come any closer, I push her off the roof!" He snarled.

Tora paused. For a moment, Sarakshi thought Ginjiro's words had rooted him to the spot. Then the Student Council President smiled, and Sarakshi realized just how mistaken she had been. "Whatever you do to her, Denji, I will do to you over and over again, until you wish you had listened to me," he said nonchalantly, his voice suggesting he was commenting on the weather.

"Back off!" Ginjiro snarled, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He hadn't wanted to land into this sort of trouble.. he'd only wanted to take the girl and make her cough up all of Genkei Igarashi's secrets. Damn it, why had that little wench fought back? Now Ginjiro was cornered: he couldn't let the girl go if he wanted to get out of this mess scot-free. But he couldn't hurt her either, or he'd be in worse trouble. Igarashi's son must know he, Ginjiro, was bluffing!

"And I don't intend to stop there," Tora added conversationally, as he walked up to Ginjiro with no more fear in his step than if he had been walking up to a housecat. Kosuke struggled to his feet and attempted to block him – Tora punched the ginger in the stomach without so much as taking his eyes off Ginjiro, sending Kosuke flying over to the other edge of the roof.

"I am not kidding, Igarashi! Stop! I said STOP!" Ginjiro spat, eyes round as saucers. Damn it, he'd have to take them both down for good if Igarashi didn't stop. He thought of his gun. If he couldn't get Igarashi to stop, it was the only way.. "OOFFF!"The muscular man snarled, jerked out of his thoughts as Sarakshi sank her teeth – hard – into his shoulder, and tore free of his grip. He'd had quite enough of these two!

There was a flash of steel as Ginjiro whipped out his gun.

"If either of you move so much as a muscle -" Ginjiro pointed the muzzle straight at Sarakhi's heart. His voice was the voice of a man who knew he had nothing to lose anymore and, one hand holding the front of her gown in blue gathers of chiffon, Sarakshi stilled mid-action. "I shoot her."

Tora came to an abrupt halt, midstep. Sarakshi saw a surge of fear pass through him, paralyzing him to the spot. Then it was gone.

"Lower the gun, Denji." Tora's voice was no longer conversational or nonchalant: it was quiet. "Do that, and you and Kota can walk out of here right now, no questions asked."

"You're lying." Ginjiro did not remove his finger from the trigger, yet there was hesitation behind his dark eyes. He'd never wanted to get into this much trouble..

"You have my word."

There were droplets of sweat on Ginjiro's forehead. "How do I know you're not lying?" He demanded.

"Think about it, Denji." Tora's voice was reasoning. Even gentle. Only his demeanour belied the calm in his voice: he was standing still as a statue, aware that the least sign of movement might cause Ginjiro to react. "If you pull that trigger, you force the Igarashi Foundation to file a serious criminal case against you. We could all do without that. Let go of the gun, Denji, and I can convince my father to drop the fraud case against you as well. You'd like it dropped, wouldn't you? No one would bother you about it again."

Ginjiro's grip on the trigger loosened. He began to lower the gun – and then several things happened in rapid succession.

Kosuke (who did not believe a word Tora had said) struggled to his feet and grabbed Sarakshi's arm, under the misguided certainty that he could capture her and make a run for his life. Taken by surprise, Sarakshi reacted, hitting the ginger square in the jaw with the back of her hand. And Ginjiro, unable to make out what was happening and thinking that Tora had somehow betrayed him, snarled in frustration and pressed down on the trigger.

A bullet burst into the air with the resounding noise of gunfire - Tora dived in front of Sarakshi to shield her from it - There was a crimson splash of blood as the bullet grazed his shoulder on its way past him - And then Kosuke's frantic, panicked movements had sent Sarakshi toppling over the edge of the roof.

Then she was falling, falling, falling, and in the distance, Genkei Igarashi's shocked voice was booming in the air as the Igarashi security team flooded on to the rooftop, handcuffing Kosuke and holding down Ginjiro.

_Shit,_ Tora thought in the half second that he was standing on the edge of the rooftop and she wasn't, her dress a swirl of breathtaking blue fabric as she fell through the air.

Then, crouching low, he jumped after her.

-;-

Linda looked down at her cellphone screen with a frown on her face. It had been well over an hour since Tora and Sarakshi had disappered. She'd attempted to call both numerous times in the past half hour (and when neither had picked up, even Marjani, but his cellphone was switched off) but to no avail. At the very least, she'd expected a text message from one of them by now.

"Takihara." She marched up to the bar, where Fenshani was mixing a dozen different juices in one glass. "Takihara!"

He looked up from his rainbow-coloured drink with his face scrunched up. "I swear, this tastes like sharpies."

Linda was so stunned by this piece of information, she momentarily forgot the reason she had marched up to him in the first place. "How do you know what sharpies taste like?" She demanded, both eyebrows raised.

"How do you _not_ know what sharpies taste like?" Fenshani asked, surprised. He was a boyish sort of good-looking, fair with neat stubble, and when he looked at someone like that, eyes opened wide in astonishment, he looked even more boyish.

"Forget the sharpies!" She held up her cellphone, showing him her call log. "Look at the number of times I've called these two. I don't think either of them have their cellphones on them."

"It's Tora and Sarakshi." Fenshani shrugged. "If they're too busy to respond to anyone, they're probably in some closet somewhere, undressing each other. I mean, have you_ felt_ the amount of hostile sexual tension that springs up, each time they're within a mile's radius of each other? About time they stopped ignoring each other, and started ignoring their cellphones!"

"Now is _not_ the time to joke about this!" Linda hit him on the head with her cellphone. Or tried to. He ducked, escaping her reach with the multi-coloured mixture of juices still dancing in his hand. "Listen, I ran into Tora earlier, and I'm sure something is up. If they don't pick up, then we need to find Marjani." She laid her hand on his arm. "Takihara. Please."

Frowning, Fenshani looked at the lilac-wrapped blonde in front of him. Was one night of slow dancing and rainbow-coloured juice too much to ask for? One night that didn't have any of the bitterness and tension that had characterized the past few weeks? Apparently, it was. He knew better than to ignore her apprehension: it wasn't often that Linda took things seriously, but she sounded _very_ serious right now.

"Have you tried calling Ryu-san or Sahara-san?" He asked, setting down the drink with a sigh. "If he's at home, one of them will know."

Why hadn't she thought of that? Pulling him away from the counter, Linda shook her head no. She'd do that, now. Call Marjani's parents.

-;-

He caught her in midair, her gown a halo of blue swirling around him.

Then she was struggling against him, her legs kicking under him, around him, her words a string of 'No! No! No! _Dammit,_ _no_!' until the _no_-s had become one endless word.

But even with blood dripping from his shoulder on to the front of her gown, he was too strong for her.

He flipped them over as the pool rushed to meet them. Water splashed in all directions as the two of them landed smack into it, Sarakshi landing right against him. She heard a sickening crunch as his side and shoulder met the metallic edge of the pool, his body shielding hers from the blow of the thirty-foot fall.

Then his eyes fluttered close with a groan.

"Igarashi." She untangled herself from his iron-like grip (Still there. Still holding on to her.) and shook him, shook him until she could no longer feel the incessant trembling of her own hands. There was blood on his forehead, and down the front of his shirt; his arm was twisted at an angle that did not seem human. How dare he dive in front of the bullet? How dare he leap after her so that he could break the fall for her? Later, she would feel traumatized by the whole chain of events but, for now, all she was aware of was that his eyes were closed, pain etched all over his face.

"Igarashi. Igarashi. Igrashi. Please. Tora. Dear God, Tora –" Her voice was laced with furious tears, but she could not have cared less how she sounded. If anything happened to him - He had to wake up, he had to -

His eyes opened, two dark gold pupils staring at her from underneath windswept, blood-matted golden hair. "Shut up, Ishin," he drawled, aware that the lazy touch to his voice was marred by how much of an effort he had to put in, to be able to string two words together without coughing up blood. "You sound highly unattractive."

Her eyes widened.

"You aren't dead," she whispered.

"Sentimental as I'm sure you're attempting to be, Ishin," he forced himself not to groan in pain as her face made contact with his chest. "You're burying your face in my dislocated shoulder."

She choked, remembering that he was bleeding in ten different places. Dear God, what on earth was she doing? He needed help, not a girl crying all over him. "Oh God," she gasped. "Oh God, oh God, oh God -"

"Stop hyperventilating, woman, the bullet missed me. Not that it would have made a difference if it hadn't. Takes more than a gun to bring me down." With his good hand, he motioned broadly to the well-defined chest that showed through his ripped shirt.

Her face flushed red. "You overconfident idiot! How can you joke like that when you're almost dead?!"

"I'm an Igarashi," he drawled, running a rough thumb down the side of her throat and pausing at the chaotic flutter of her pulse at her throat. "Your body takes a lot less time in understanding that, than your brain," he purred.

Heat spilled on to her cheeks. How could he do this, _now_? She wanted to hit him, hard, in the chest. He might have cushioned her from most of the impact of the fall, but that did not mean there had been no impact. Every bone in her body seemed to have been hit with a hammer, and she could feel bruises beginning to form from her ankles, all the way up to her thighs and arms. Surely, he must be hurting much, much worse? How could he act as if nothing had happened? Angrily, she swatted at her tears with the back of a hand. Then without a word, she helped him lean against the edge of the pool - it was a mark of how serious his injuries were that he let her. The moment she let go of him, he fell back on the marble side with a gasp, his broken arm lying limply by his side.

Her eyes widened at the sight. For all of his wicked murmurings, he _was_ hurt. And badly. She had to find Genkei Igarashi! Surely, the man cared more about his heir than he did about his own petty plans to disrupt her or Tora or Marani's life? She rose to her feet, tears in her eyes and rivulets of water streaming down from her gemstone-studded bodice to her bare legs as she made to dash past him.

"Ishin." He gasped, his voice marred by pain.

Was he calling for help? How hurt was he to call for _her?_ She turned back and dropped down next to him, her heart a wild thing pounding in her chest. "What?" She asked urgently, half-mad with worry.

He raised himself on his one good arm until his face was centimeters away from hers.

"You look scandalous when you're wet," he breathed against the fullness of her lips.

Then he fell back on to the edge of the pool, unconscious.

-;-

Ryu Suoh was the first person the hospital called.

Yuki Shinomori was the first to arrive at the hospital.

Granted, she arrived only one minute before Ryu and Sahara burst on to the scene - or rather, Sahara burst on to the scene in a hysterical fit of tears; Ryu Suoh was the picture of calm despite all the colour having drained from his face. He somehow even found the presence of mind to nod to Yuki as he strode past her to see his adopted son, and the doctors attending to said son.

She sat in the waiting room for an entire hour like the perfect Yamato Nadeshiko that she was, dark hair pinned into a perfect bun - beautiful, but serious enough for an occassion such as this - and hands clasped delicately in her lap. She did not call Tora (he had not picked Ryu's calls. She knew that if he was caught up in something during which he was not picking up Ryu Suoh's calls, then no amount of calls that she made to him would make any difference. He would pick up when he would pick up. Or call back, when he saw the missed calls.) Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she wondered if it was because of what she had overheard the nurse saying (_Poor things, what a nice couple, we can't guarantee them anything at this point, what an exceptionally good-looking young man_) or because she was aware that the moment Tora would find out, all hell would break loose.

All hell was an understatement.

At the end of the hour, Linda and Takihara arrived. Linda's hair was a mess; Takihara was sweating like he'd driven too fast.

"Is he -" Linda said.

Yuki looked at the blonde's hazel eyes and thought, s_he loves him, _before rising to her feet like the perfect hostess she had always been trained to be, guiding Linda into a seat, smiling at Takihara (A perfect smile: Equal parts reassurance and sadness) and bringing them both coffee in plastic cups.

"Alive? Yes. Yes, he's alive." And then, because Yuki was certain Linda could handle it, certain Linda was not the type to break down in public, but above all, certain that Linda would want to know directly rather than have anyone cushion or soften the blow through lies, she added, "For now."

Linda drained the coffee in three, large sips, not pausing to complain about how the hospital coffee did not have any of the embellishments she preferred in her regular intake of caffeine. Ealier in the evening, she had called Ryu and Sahara, both of whom said they'd left Miyabigaoka Academy, and were sure Marjani would be back in a bit as well, could she please call in half an hour?

Fifteen minutes later, Ryu had called her back and said, in a voice so calm it was scary, "He's been in an accident. I can't get in touch with Tora. He'd want to know."

As she waited outside Marjani's room, Takihara standing by her side, Linda lost all track of time.

What felt like ages later, Ryu and Sahara came out (Ryu smiling, Sahara still crying; though this time, Yuki supposed, they were tears of happiness) and said, almost simultaneously,

"He's out of danger."

Linda rose to her feet. "Can I go in and see him?"

"Yes." Ryu nodded at her. "You all can. But don't be loud." He half-smiled. "I don't think my son is in a mood to be disturbed."

-;-

"I apologize for everything that happened, Ishin-san." Standing behind a polished desk, Genkei Igarashi sounded exhausted. If Sarakshi hadn't known better, she might have been fooled into thinking he actually meant the apology. "If anything had happened to either of you, I don't know what I would have done."

Kin had shown her into Genkei's study several minutes ago, after a pretty, blonde doctor with an incredible smile had made sure she, Sarakshi, was alright. "You're bruised all over, poor thing," the matronly woman had fussed as she had bandaged Sarakshi all over. "Nothing serious or lasting, though. I don't know why I'm not allowed to give you something to put you to sleep. You need to get some rest. You've gone through too much." Then - for the umpteenth time, because she couldn't believe Sarakshi had not undergone a mental breakdown of some kind due to trauma, already - "You sure you're alright? I think I'll set up another appointment with you. Here, have this." And she'd fed Sarakshi yet another drink of green-tea, meant to soothe down her nerves.

Standing in front of Genkei now, as night fell around them, Sarakshi wished she'd insisted on being given something that let her sleep - she doubted the doctor would've said no. But she couldn't have insisted, she knew. There was too much she needed to know. Not to mention, falling asleep in the middle of a place controlled by Genkei Igarashi did not seem like the brightest idea. She had to get out, and soon.

"You're mad," she said flatly, eyes narrowed at the yellow-haired man in front of her. "Your son could have _died_."

Genkei's eyes flashed angrily. "You think I'm not aware of that? You think I wanted to put him in a situation that could harm him?" Then his expression softened. "I apologize. You've been through a lot yourself. I know you find this hard to believe, but this was never my intention. Please sit down. Is there anything I can get you? Tea? Coffee?"

Sarakshi had been through too much for one day to argue. She sat down, aware that her whole body ached like somebody had clamped it shut inside a giant iron fist. "How is he?" She asked.

"Unconscious." Genkei's smile was a thin, painful line. "But being looked after. That boy never did know what was good for him."

"You can't be serious!" Sarakshi's eyes flashed fiercely. "How can you stand there and talk like any of this is _his_ fault? He could have died because of what you did today!"

"He could have died because of what _he_ did today," Genkei snapped, his patience wearing thin. "The men never meant to hurt you. If Tora hadn't arrived to save the day, nobody would have been hurt, least of all him!"

"Nobody would have been hurt?" She repeated incredulously. "You knocked me out and brought me to an unknown place! You think that wouldn't have done _anything_ to me?"

"I did not intend to harm you in any way." Genkei's eyes had gone cold; any attempt at warmth no longer remained. "If you had stayed put, I would have dropped you to your home without so much as a scartch once I had accomplished what I meant to."

"Because of _course_ all injuries are physical," Sarakshi snapped. When Genkei chose to ignore that, she rose to her feet. "Why was I here in the first place, Igarashi-san? The least you can do is tell me why you roped me into this entire drama. Who were you planning to hurt, if not me and Tora? Marjani?"

Genkei stiffened, and Sarakshi knew she had hit the right target with Marjani. "What I have planned is none of your concern. Sit down," he snapped, when she rose to her feet at his words. "You're not well enough to stand up!"

Sarakshi gave him an incredulous look. "I have no idea what this has to do with -" But of course she had an idea. Of course she had an idea. She'd never been oblivious to Genkei's hostility towards Marjani, even though she was certain there was a piece to the puzzle she didn't quite know. "- but if you think I'm going to sit back and let you do whatever you want, after everything you've done today, you haven't come to know me at _all_."

"I have no desire to hurt you_ or_ anyone else." Genkei said coldly. He could tell what Marjani saw in her; he was, he admitted, impressed against his will. That did not mean she was allowed to leave. He'd come too far to just let her walk out. "You're going to sit back down and give neither of us - yourself or me - any more trouble. Anything that you want, this place will serve you. In another few hours, I will let you go. Is that understood?"

"If you think I'm going to agree to any of that -"

"Let her go."

Both of them turned. Tora was leaning against the doorway, a handsome mess if there had ever been one. His right arm was held against his chest by a sling, and his eyes were rimmed with smudged dark shadows. But the bandage tied around his forehead swept wet hair away from his forehead with an elegance that no one could have denied, and his fresh white shirt was unbuttoned all the way down to his waist to reveal a sculpted chest bound in sarashi and - cheeks flushing, Sarakshi forced herself to look away - the waistband of a dark pair of jeans. He smiled suggestively at her when he caught her looking, a heady, dazzling sort of smile, a smile that was a little too sinful to be innocent.

"Go back to your doctors." Genkei said firmly.

"So you can find some way of blackmailing her into staying here?" Tora asked, the smile disappearing, the flush to his pale skin more apparent now, making him seem just a little more wrecked. He was feverish, Sarakshi suddenly realized, the half-smile in her own eyes vanishing too. Surely Genkei could see that? "Wait for Marjani to show up, even though you have no idea what to do with him, once he does arrive?"

"Go back to your doctors _now_." Genkei's voice had gone so cold, it made Sarakshi's eyes widen.

"Marjani doesn't intend to come," Tora said flatly. "Keeping her here serves you no purpose."

"Doesn't it, now?" Genkei said sharply. It would not have taken a genius to tell that Tora's interference irked him. Not Tora's interference, Sarakshi realized with sudden understanding. The fact that Tora was siding with Marjani. "How long will he refuse to come? I could keep her here for quite a while. I doubt that would go down well with him."

"Provided, of course." Tora's drawl was cold. "That I let you keep her here."

"What are you going to do?" Genkei laughed. "There's a sling on your arm, Tora. You can barely stand up straight. Go back to your doctors."

"Sometimes -" Tora straightened up and smiled a very sweet smile - "I wonder what Mina saw in you."

Genkei's eyes flashed fire. It was the first time Sarakshi had seen Genkei Igarashi come so alive with rage: the man's grip tightened around the headset of the intercom on his desk. "Since when did you become this naïve?" Genkei hissed. "He doesn't have the guts to come himself, so he sends you in his place instead. And like the fool that you are, you come. _There is nothing Marjani Suoh should be able to offer you that can convince you to do such a stupid thing_."

"Are you done yet?" Tora met his father's eyes, with utter nonchalance.

Rage swam in Genkei's eyes. "You little fool," he spat. "_I thought I could be proud of you_."

The one sentence seemed to be the final straw; the atmosphere in the room changed completely. Sarakshi could hear each of their breathing in the pindrop silence that met Genkei's words.

Then Tora stepped inside and looked directly into his father's face.

"Why?" He asked softly, and he did not care if the question was ruthless, because he was done with niceties. "Why did you think that, father? Because you didn't disown me when I was born, like you disowned him? Because you didn't leave me to the streets, like you left him? Because I didn't come back years later and let you know that I didn't give a damn about you, like he did?"

It was like someone had reached into her stomach and crushed it; realization washed over Sarakshi in glacial waves. Cousins? Tora and Marjani had never been cousins. _Brothers_, she realized, and the word seemed to send her world crashing.

"How dare you…" Genkei breathed. He had gone too still for words. Sarakshi heard the crack of plastic as the headset in Genkei's hand broke with a crack. Then Genkei met Tora's gaze and when he spoke, his voice was soft. "You do realize, don't you," he said. "That I can't allow her to leave, now that she has heard?"

"You speak as if you have a choice." Tora's voice was perfectly calm, as if he had never dragged his own mother into his fight against Genkei, or just revealed his father's longest-hid secret to a commoner with every reason to hate the two of them.

"Do you realize what would happen, if she tells?" Genkei hissed. "The Igarashi Foundation would suffer from the kind of losses it has never –"

"She won't tell." Tora cut across; he spoke the word 'she' with a kind of coldness that made Sarakshi's eyes widen. He did not look at her when he spoke; it was as if she weren't there at all. "I have enough dirt on her to make her wish she'd never been born, if she does. But if you block her path right now, you block mine. And the last thing you want the entire Igarashi Foundation to hear of, is a physical rift between you and me. Everybody is expecting you to hand over the business to me in another few years. Imagine how news of us falling out will affect the Foundation's valuation."

Genkei's face was red with rage. "How _dare_ you put me in a situation like this?"

"Because I've had enough of you messing Marjani's life!" Tora spat.

There was a moment of silence in which Sarakshi thought Genkei would stride across the room and slap Tora, hard.

Then Genkei's eyes flickered into total calm.

"How do I know you're not lying that she won't tell anyone?" He asked calmly.

"Have I ever." Tora's eyes met his. There was a challenge in them, a kind of private challenge. "Lied to you?"

For a moment, Sarakshi thought Genkei would not relinquish his control on the situation. Refuse to budge. Refuse to let her leave, no matter what the costs.

Then the man stepped back.

"I never want to see her again," he said, face unreadable. "Or for that matter, _you_ inside the Igarashi Foundation. You aren't ready to take over anything yet."

When Tora turned to leave, Genkei added softly,

"You never cease to disappoint me. If you didn't look so much like me, Tora, I would wonder if you are mine at all."

-;-

Marjani wasn't conscious. Looking down at him lying there, linked and hooked up to half a dozen tubes, Linda felt like she was going to be sick. It wasn't the sight, not per se - she had never been squeamish. It was the fact that it was_ him_.

Marjani Suoh. Raised on the streets, tough as nails, heir to Ryu Suoh because he was the oldest of three children (despite being adopted, Linda thought, and her respect for Ryu grew manifold in just that one moment of realization), and armoured with that dazzling smile that could change his whole face. Light it up. Make you forget where you were.

She touched his cheek. "Don't you die on me, Suoh," she said flatly.

"He won't," Yuki's gentle voice said from the door.

Linda looked up, meeting Yuki's limpid eyes with her own hazel ones. The brunette stepped in, the outlines of her kimino swishing lightly with each movement, and smiled at Linda. "My apologies for disturbing you," she said. "I just wanted to reassure you. He's tougher than he looks. And _that_ is saying something," she added, smiling softly.

Sometimes, there was something in Yuki's eyes that seemed to belie her entire personality. Linda removed her face from Marjani's cheek and frowned at Yuki. "What are _you_ hiding, I wonder," Linda said. "You look too perfect to have any secrets."

Yuki laughed a very soft laugh. One would have thought it would sound rude - disrespectful - to laugh in Marjani's presence in the given moment, but Yuki made it sound alright. "I dated him for a while, you know," she told Linda. "It was a long time ago."

Dated? For the life of her, Linda could not imagine someone like Yuki Shinomori - delicate, perfect, so utterly beautiful and ladylike - even _thinking_ of someone like Marjani (dangerous, dark, all brute strength. So very, very male), let alone dating him. Then comprehension dawned across her features. "That's your secret," she said softly to Yuki. Yuki Shinomori wasn't as gentle or delicate or 'proper' as she appeared, was she?

"Mm." Yuki softly curled a hand around Marjani's wrist.

"Do you still like him?"

"Like? Yes, very much, of course. It's very hard not to like Marjani." Yuki let go of his hand - the action gentle, graceful, like only one of Yuki Shinomori's actions could be - and smiled at Linda. "But I'm not in love with him, if that's what you want to know."

"Was he in love with you?" Linda was almost curious.

"Dear God, no." Yuki pulled on the perfect, maidenly, shocked expression, complete with the faintest spots of pink on her cheeks. "There was obviously an attraction. I'd say we both liked each other very, very much. But we never_ in_ love with one another. He's only ever been in love with Sarakshi, you know," she said, matter-of-factly. When the silence stretched, she looked up at Linda's face. "Do _you_ love him?"

"Of course." Linda thought of what President Igarashi had said to her, before he had picked up his coat and left. "But you did say it. He's only ever been in love with Sarakshi." She bent down and very, very gently, kissed Marjani on the forehead. "I'm going to go outside and get some more coffee. Are you coming?"

Yuki shook her head, a sad smile playing around her mouth. "I'm going to stay, I think. Tora is going to snap when he sees Marjani in this condition. I think he'll need someone around who's used to the sight."

'_Tora is going to snap when he sees Marjani in this condition_,' Yuki knew, was the understatement of the year.

x

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><p><em>Okay, long AN is going to be super long._

_First of all, this is a much shorter chapter than most of my other recent chapters, because it's not a full chapter. Seduction hit 1000 reviews, so I thought I would celebrate with all of you by publishing what I've written so far. 'Cause I wasn't sure how long the full chapter would take to complete, perhaps another week. So here is what I've written till now! :D (Be prepared for a really angst-filled next update though, a lot of angst and bitterness in the second half. XD)  
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_Other stuff about this chapter: Chapter title comes verbatim from the lyrics of Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips. About Tora's jump, when I started Seduction way back in 2011, a reviewer asked me to feature Tora in a scene where he jumps off a high point. I REALLY liked the idea (because of how Tora looked in my head, all windswept hair and wicked grin and lots of style) and I thought I'd do it. So yes, I know this is really late and that person in all likelihood doesn't even read _Seduction_ anymore, but the idea was a reviewer's, so credit where credit's due. **EDIT:** I NEEDED to know I didn't make up this reviewer in my head, so I went through the reviews. This was the incredible Wildfly (who writes a deliciously IC Tora, and should really update her Takumi/ Misa fic), and who said "Can you drop Tora from some high point of the landscape? That's what i am doing with Usui currently. I am sure no matter how many times we drop them, they'll bounce back nicely." As usual, any factual inaccuracies in this chapter are all mine, and I would be grateful if they were pointed out.  
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_Speaking of reviewers/ reviews.. You guys are the BEST. Thank you for all the reviews. I can't believe people actually WAITED an entire year for updates. I thought nobody would read/ review. I feel so, so, so humbled. *tears up* **StarElsie** (Yes, you are :3), **blob80** (I love your username!), **milk chan** (Judo fight to the death? Hahahahahhaha. XD), **stephanie** (*stores all fifty cookies for future use* ._. :3), **MirrorofSouls, Ka-tay's mind, XxSilenceOfTheNightxX, Sandhya, Yui's Sweet Dream, Kimi Ayuzawa, Bebe17, lettertothewind, Myrrine, Nihchan, Wildfly, slypkc, Megane no Ohime-sama, Lemonsnaps, yuki274, AnimeFreak145, Luphie, Everdeengirl, SkulPercyJace Potterlock, RuhGezgini, ANImeK-PopFan4Everever, Yukiteruo, Aeviel, Raee, lunarestings, Qwerty, Xylenia, **all the guests who reviewed, and anyone I've somehow forgotten (I'm so sorry!), thank you for the praise/ criticism. I would've stopped writing a long time ago, without all of you._ **Aishwarya (wherever you are, I hope you're doing great) I miss you. **__

_**SkulPercyJace Potterlock:** I love writing Marjani/ Sarakshi scenes, they're always very effortless. But then I enjoy writing Tora/ Sarakshi as well, even though those scenes are harder to write for me. I don't think I'd ever be able to choose one over the other in my head. I equally like the idea of Tora/ Sarakshi, Marjani/ Sarakshi. o_o  
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**_Qwerty:_**_ Point about pauses... noticed. XD I hope it was better in this chapter, I tried to cut down on them. =)_

**_Blommie8:_**_ I don't think I could write Takumi/ Misaki. I keep feeling like they've been written SO much about (in the manga, anime, hundreds of fanfiction) there isn't anything I want to add to that. But perhaps some day, if inspiration strikes? Thank you for the well wishes!_

**_Luphie: _**_Thank YOU for sticking around. I think your suggestions have sort of redefined/ remoulded how Seduction shaped up. Thank you. =)_

**_Awesome Remambrandt Affair Person:_**_ I don't know about being deep, but hope I didn't sound too sad. =) It's just been a very long while, and I wasn't quite sure what to say/ how to say anything at all. And yes, I think there are so many directions in which Seduction could have gone, a lot of subplots that could have been expanded on, but I think it's time I wrap it up. If I go on, at some point (very soon) real life will strike again and I won't have time to write very often. And I want to avoid that. Thank you so much for sticking around, though. ^_^  
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**_Nameless:_**_ Wow. I'm so glad you feel that way about how the kiss was written (or about how both kisses were written). I was definitely trying to portray different emotions with each one, so I'm glad that came through. And point about the humour noted. =)_

_Aaand. What manga/ anime/ novels are you people reading/ watching these days? I'd love recommendations. Pleaseandthankyou. *nodnod*_

**EDIT v. 2:** _I'm STILL going through the reviews (the old ones that piled up while I was away). About Marjani's name, I think I've clarified this before, but I will again. Firstly, the name Marjani comes from the word Marjaan (I have a friend with that name, who says the word means coral). And secondly, Marjani was always meant to be non-Japanese on his mother's side (Sahara Suoh) and the back-story, for anyone who still finds it unclear, is that Sahara had him with Genkei, BEFORE she married Ryu Suoh. She gave him up to an orphanage, though she later went to Genkei to have Marjani tracked down and returned to her. So for everyone who doesn't find the name Japanese enough, the name was never meant to be Japanese in the first place. .-._

**_For everyone who was wondering (while I was away) if I'd update, if the reviews were to hit a certain number: _**_As much as I'm grateful for the support (and you are all SO amazing, so I never feel like I'm grateful enough) the lapse has nothing to do with reviews. I know different writers have different opinions about reviews, but for me, they are to see what my readers like/ want, and what they think detracts from the story and should be tweaked or changed. So yes, I always wait for at least some reviews to trickle in so I know that the general feedback is. Then accordingly, I try my best to make corrections and revisions in the next chapter I'm writing. But no, the lapse was not because I was waiting for a lot of reviews, and there will never be a lapse for that. Once again, thank you for your love and support. ^_^  
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	27. hold still, before we Crash

**chapter twenty seven**

**hold still, before we CRASH.**

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><p>x<p>

Having been unconscious, Sarakshi had not seen the compound Genkei had taken her to. When the glass exit slid open and she stepped out, however, she did. It was a stunning circle of tall buildings designed in Western style, angular, high-rise, state-of-the-art.

She never wanted to see it again.

She felt like a volcano had erupted inside of her. How did it turn out like this, she thought, and the question left her as stunned as its answer. Half-brothers. The phrase seemed like a cruel joke.

_I thought I could be proud of you,_ Genkei had said to Tora.

She hated him. In that moment, she hated Genkei Igarashi like she had never hated anyone else. How could he – how could anyone – want their son to be all cold-blooded, ruthless logic? Not just want it,_ require_ it?

_You never cease to disappoint me._

How on earth could someone not consider their son to match up to their standards, no matter what the son achieved? Damn it, how could someone not consider a son like _Tora_ to be good enough?

"Do you want a ride?" Tora's cold voice snapped her back to the present.

They'd reached his limousine, Sarakshi realized, though she had no idea when or how. Feeling like she was walking through a dream, she nodded.

The Tora Igarashi who had jumped off a building to block her fall was gone. So was the Tora Igarashi who had whispered against her mouth before falling unconscious. The young man in front of her - so cold, she might never have known him - held open the door of the limo for her without a word. When she climbed in, he did not so much as glance at her. But she had seen that coming. Of course she had.

When she had stood in that room, listening to the exchange between him and Genkei, she had seen all the parts of his life he had never wanted her or anyone else to know; and he wouldn't forgive her (or _himself_, she realized) for it.

The silence in the limo was almost deafening.

When the car pulled to a stop at long last, she couldn't wait to leave the night behind. Her foot caught on the curb as she scrambled out, and she lost her balance. He caught her before she fell and for one numbing moment, Sarakshi was aware that he was holding her up – one hand around her waist and one around her left wrist.

She looked up into his face before he could let go. "I had no idea," she said softly.

"That my family is a bunch of dysfunctional people who don't even admit that they're related?" He drawled. "Don't worry about it, Ishin. At least I _have_ a family."

Her eyes widened in shock.

"Call Marjani," he said, letting go of her. "Let him know."

She wanted to tell him that she wouldn't. That he couldn't push her off, just because she knew the parts of him he wanted to pretend didn't exist. But she knew talking would be useless. It always was, with him. Walking away from him, she flipped open her cell phone to call Marjani.

"Tora." She said, staring down at the messages on her screen as her feet came to an abrupt halt. "TORA! You have to listen to me! It's Marjani."

-;-

He punched the limo so hard, his hand came away bloody.

But that was all Tora did or said until they reached the hospital.

"What on earth have you two been up to?" Linda's horrified voice met them the two of them, moments after they had arrived. Her hazel eyes went from Tora's sling to his other hand (freshly bleeding), and from Sarakshi's flyaway hair to her diamond-studded gown (hemline ripped off till the knees). "Prez-?"

He was gone. Linda frowned as he whipped past them, and disappeared from sight. "What on earth is going on? Where the hell did he go?"

"To see for himself if Marjani's alive," Sarakshi smiled without any humour. He'd see Marjani, then Marjani's parents, then Marjani's doctors, in that exact order - she knew this without ever having been told. Without a doubt, Linda's or anyone else's reports would not satisfy him. "How is Marjani?"

"He's in bad shape. But he'll be fine." Linda hesitated. "You know you can go in and see him?"

Sinking down into a seat, Sarakshi nodded. She did know. But she also knew that she did not want to walk in on Tora, right now. For all that she felt - and she felt as if she was breaking apart from the inside, over and over again - he still had the right to see Marjani alone, before she did.

"I'll wait until Tora's seen him," she said softly, allowing Takihara to lead her to a sofa.

-;-

"Tora." Yuki's voice was gentle.

"Don't." Tora sidestepped her, leaving the hand she had tried to place on his arm hanging limply in the air.

Yuki resisted the urge to sigh. (She'd seen him go into Marjani's room with a face so calm, her only thought had been, _Shit_. He'd spent less than three minutes inside the room itself, come out to talk to Ryu and the doctors with the perfectly calm, perfectly polite demeanour of a sympathetic well-wisher, until he had all the answers he needed.. and then made for the gates, to leave.)

She took his good hand in hers and turned it over. There was blood on it, like he'd smashed it into a considerably hard surface. "What else happened?" She asked. Because it was so clear something else had. Something devastating.

"Yuki." Very gently, he removed her hand from his fist. "Go home. Get some sleep."

So he wasn't going to tell her. She _did_ sigh at that. "Don't do anything stupid without telling me first," she said, stepping back to let him go.

Even if she knew he would never tell her.

-;-

The waiting area outside Marjani's room was empty, except for Sarakshi and a nurse who was just passing through. It was late, and her head was throbbing with pain, but Sarakshi had no plans to leave - Marjani hadn't been conscious when she had first gone in to see him, and she had no intentions of leaving the hospital until he regained conscsiousness.

When the place had closed to visitors at eleven pm, she had refused to budge.

"I'll drop her home," Tora had intercepted Sarakshi and Linda curtly (the former refusing to leave, the latter intent upon taking Sarakshi home), fully aware that Sarakshi would not go home with him_ or_ his chauffeur. Frowning, Linda had left without another word. The moment she did? So had Tora. His parting words had been, "Call me if you need a chauffeur to take you home."

He hadn't looked at her as he spoke; Sarakshi hadn't responded.

That had been over an hour ago. Now the hospital was clear of visitors, though nobody had asked her to leave. She had a vague idea that Tora had something to do with the fact that she was being allowed to stay past hours, but she was too exhausted to wonder how he'd accomplished that. Her entire body ached: in the space of the last ten hours, she'd acted in a play, kissed Tora Igarashi like something had snapped inside of her, been held hostage, survived a thirty-foot fall because of a _human_ cushion, and found out that her best friend was half-dead. If she'd had any sense of what was good for her, she would have let Linda take her home.

But she couldn't bear being separated from Marjani for so much as a single second.

Rising to her feet, she walked to the door of Marjani's room, pushed it open and slipped inside.

The room smelled of plastic flowers and chemicals. Marjani was laid on the bed, dark against the stark white sheets and as still as stone. Underneath the complete mess of tubes and drips and bandages, he was still the powerful, young man she'd always known, she told herself, the Marjani with a dangerous voice and a jagged scar running across his chest. He had to be.

_Will he be alright?_ She'd asked a nurse earlier.

_I'm sorry, there's no guarantee,_ the woman had said, her slightly sharp features softening. She could have added, If it had been anyone else, they would never have made it here alive in the first place, but she wisely refrained from doing so - the girl looked terrible enough as it was. _You don't look alright yourself, sweetie. Can I get you something?_

Shaking the earlier conversation out of her head, Sarakshi walked over to Marjani's bed. There were chairs for visitors next to it, but she ignored them and lowered herself on to the edge of the bed itself. This close, she could see his face in perfect detail; the gauntness of it shocked her. He'd been slipping in and out of consciousness, a doctor had told her, and sometimes the spells of consciousness would extend for a good ten to fifteen minutes. But that had been before she had arrived - in the past few hours, he hadn't regained consciousness even once. The sole sign he was alive seemed to be the steady beeping of his heart on the monitor.

_Just because I'm not in love with you.._

Why had she said that? Why the harshness, so uncharacteristic of her in normal days? Couldn't she have been gentler? Softer? Less horrible?

_I don't think we should see each other again for a while._

It seemed ages ago, not a few hours ago, that everything had been alright and she could have those words back. Shivering, she pressed a hand to his cheek. He was icy to to the touch, his face cold against her soft palm. _I'm sorry_, she thought, but she didn't say it, as if saving the words for when he woke up would ensure that he woke up sooner. She traced the muscular outline of his forearm with her fingers, circling around tubes to avoid them. "Say, Marjani.. I kicked a man in high heels today. It was a good kick, too. I reckon you would've been proud."

He didn't wake up.

"Please," she said.

When he still didn't, she did the only other thing she could think of to jolt him into consciousness: she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. He tasted of blood and medicine and cinnamon. He tasted like rubble and accidents and what-ifs. Hands clenched into fists in her lap, she raised her face from his, tears in her eyes.

Only to see Tora standing in the doorway, his face a gaunt outline in the soft green glow of the zero-watt bulb, his body throwing the pool of light at his feet into shadow.

"Don't stop on my account, Ishin." His voice was so cold, it sent shivers up her spine. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your agendum to kiss every man on the planet, in the same night."

A lump rose in her throat, but she did not retaliate. He'd had been through hell and back tonight himself, she knew, and she'd seen too much of his world, his secrets, his _heart_, for him to ever forgive her for it. What did he want her to tell him? That she hadn't meant to kiss Marjani? Because of course she had meant it. She would kiss Marjani all over again, if it meant he would wake up and smile at her. If she could go back in time and undo what she had said to him, after the play.

"Why are you here?" She asked softly. "I thought you went home."

He stepped inside, and she realized he _had_ gone home - his clothes were different, his hair wet from a shower, his eyes clearer and colder. His arm was still in the sling, and the feverish touch to his skin remained. But he looked less like a disaster, and more like the calm, collected, manipulative Igarashi that she knew.

It was a moment before she realized he was holding out a plastic bag for her to take.

"I picked up your clothes," he said curtly, his voice a clear sign that he wanted nothing to do with her. She refused to flinch at the harshness in it. "If you're going to stay the night, then you might as well wear something decent."

She glanced down at herself, resisting the urge to wince at what she saw. She was a mess and - unlike him - not a beautiful one, either. (How could he always look so perfect? She thought furiously. He'd had a bullet open his shoulder. Jumped off a building and taken the entire blow of the fall. Broken his arm clean in two. Injured his head so bad, it had bled all over _her_. Yet when he had walked into Genkei's office, he had looked like a fallen angel, all tousled hair and hard muscles and sinful smile. And now? Even with the feverish glow to his face and the ice in his eyes, he was the picture of casual elegance and nonchalant grace. And she?)

She'd laid waste to the most expensive evening gown she had ever seen, and lost the matching heels after the Igarashis' doctor had given her a pair of flats to wear. There were splotches of blood on the bodice of her gown - their colour a sharp contrast to its gleaming blue - and the entire hemline was torn off, so that the gown now came down to a few inches below her knees, instead of falling to her feet in waves. Her hair was a mass of red held severely back by a broken clip. Did she look like a mess? Absolutely. Did she look beautiful? Not at all. How on earth, then, did he?

"My clothes?" She frowned. Had he picked them up from her house? Were there.. was there innerwear in there? Questions flooded into her mind, and flashed all over her face.

"Do you really want to know how and what I got, Ishin?" He drawled, reading the question in her eyes with ease.

Heat spilled on to her cheeks. "No," she said shakily. Then, more firmly, "No, no, thank you.." He was right. She needed to at least change her clothes. At this rate, the hospital might just kick her out for being too much of a mess to be inside the premises. She slipped out of the room, the plastic bag clenched to her chest. Outside, the hallways were alive with the slow hum of staff still hard at work, though much of the noise and light of day had faded away. She took a few steps across the waiting area, then stopped.

"Tora?" She turned around. He was still standing at the door but she could not see his face: it was turned away from her, towards Marjani's bed. At first, she thought he would not respond to her. Then he half-turned.

"What do you want, commoner?"

There was nothing playful or gentle about his voice; the harshness of it made her wince in the pale light. She walked up to him and tilted her face to look up at his. It was one of the first times she registered - not knew instinctively, but registered - that he was much, much taller than her, over six feet of unsaid and casual strength he wouldn't mind using very, very disproportionately against anyone who bothered him.

"I.." What did she want to say? That she was sorry she had seen the side of him he did not want the world to see? That she wished she had never walked all over his pride, and then straight into his deepest secrets? That if things had been different, she would never have walked off on him after she had given herself up to him for those five blazing minutes in which nothing had existed except him?

"I'm sorry about the gown," she said. "I know it must have been very expensive, and I didn't - I didn't mean to ruin it."

She was a _beautiful_ mess, he thought. As she stood there, eyes wide and uncertain, a plastic bag clenched to her chest, her curves clung to the wreck she'd made of her gown. Fiery hair falling over her face in stunning disarray, blistered feet covered by black flats that didn't match her dress, lips still swollen from where he had kissed her so hard, he supposed she still tasted of him. She was beautiful.. and he didn't want her anywhere near him.

She had seen too much. She knew too much. He didn't want her pitying him, drawing conclusions about who he was, forgiving him for something she would never otherwise have forgiven him for - her expulsion - because she thought she understood him. _Nobody_ pitied an Igarashi. _Nobody._ He didn't want to put up with the sensitivitity in her body language. Or lower his eyes to hers, and see the illusion of understanding in them. She'd walked off earlier in the night, when he had wanted her. And he didn't want her now, now that she knew too much and was only around because she pitied him for it.

"I don't want to see you again," he said, without looking at her.

Then he stepped past her with a casual elegance that was meant to make a point - she had never been anything like him.

-;-

On the morning of her first day at the hospital, Sarakshi went home to tell Kameko not to freak out, because she would be away a lot in the coming week. On the second evening, Ryu and Sahara Suoh took her home for dinner because she wouldn't leave the hospital, and she wandered into Marjani's room, noticing he had the classiest, most exquisite taste in music, before falling asleep on his bed. While going down for breakfast on the third day, she overheard a conversation between Ryu and Sahara Suoh and discovered that Ryu Suoh 1) Had two other children, who were away at boarding school, 2) Had taken in Marjani without any questions whatsoever, when Sahara had come home one day with a young boy in tow, and said he was her son and 3) Somehow blamed himself for Marjani's accident ("_How could I not realize he was so upset, he might not be able to drive safely? How many times have I told him to use the limo? Why did I never _insist _he use it, Sahara?")_

On the fourth day, Mina Igarashi walked into the hospital in white cut-off jeans and a green top ("How is that woman so damn hot _and_ classy?" Linda asked.) and kissed Marjani on the forehead, before replacing the flowers in the vase in his room with giant white roses, talking to Ryu and Sahara for over half an hour, and then breezing out as easily as she had breezed in, leaving the lingering, teasing scent of a light perfume in her wake.

On the fifth day, Linda brought Sarakshi hot chocolate to the hospital and Takihara attempted to cheer her up with a string of 'Knock knock!' jokes, after Marjani's condition became worse.

In all of these days, Sarkashi did not talk to Tora even once. She saw him, of course. He was hardly there - showing up for five minutes before disappearing for the rest of the day (though she had a feeling that was a conscious decision on his part: to stay away from the hospital, so that no one could see what he was going through because of Marjani) - but he _was_ there, and she did see him. He made no effort to talk to her, however, and when he did pass her in a hallway or on the way out, she might as well not have been there: his eyes glazed right over her, as if she were part of the furniture.

If she hadn't been worried sick about Marjani, she would have noticed the way his decision to remove her from his life felt - like being sawn apart. But she_ was_ worried sick about Marjani.

He regained consciousness for the first time since she had been there, on the seventh day.

She was sitting at the edge of his bed, head bent over, eyelashes curling over her half-closed lids and the front of her T-shirt sticking to her chest with sweat when his eyes opened.

"You're not praying for my soul, are you?" Marjani asked, voice groggy but there. _There._ "Because the sight is highly disturbing."

She screamed so hard in happiness that he fell right back into unconsciousness.

But he woke up again ten minutes later.. only to find out that she'd run out wide-eyed, because she had thought she'd done something to him, and returned with a dozen different people, including six different nurses and doctors, all of whom were now staring down at him.

"You guys do this often?" Marjani asked drily, glancing at all the people clustered around his bed. "Because it makes me feel like I'm a specimen."

"You _are_ a pretty fine specimen," Linda grinned.

-;-

The sun peeked out from behind a coverlet of clouds, an unsure but very-much-there ball of orange fire. It was ten in the morning, even though Sarakshi felt like she was returning home after a long, long night.

She had hardly been to her aparment in the past two weeks but, now that she was certain Marjani would be fine, she wanted nothing more than to curl up on her bed and sleep ten hours in a row. But there was Créme Maid to go to, in a few more hours.

Manilla had been extremely nice, when Sarakshi had told her she was going on at least a week's leave. In fact, the café Manager's exact words had been, "Don't you worry, Sara-chan~ Take the entire month off! I know you'll come back as soon as you can! I'm more than happy to give you paid leave for as long as your friend's recovering~!" but Sarakshi knew she couldn't take any undue advantage of Manilla's faith in her. Marjani was much better now, and she needed to re-start her duties at the café from tonight.

The apartment was cleaner than she had left it, Sarakshi thought as she stepped inside and switched on the lights. She knew Kameko had been dropping in every once in a while, using a spare key to ensure that the house remained well-dusted and in order. A wave of affection for her neighbour and friend washed over Sarakshi. She'd go see Kameko too, once she'd slept off her exhaustion.. What was that on the floor?

Someone had slipped an envelope under her apartment door.

It had Miyabigaoka Academy's seal on it. Which was why she flipped it open at once. The letter inside said there was official business to conclude regarding her hearing, and she was to get in touch with the Headmaster as soon as possible. Frowning, Sarakshi took out her cellphone and keyed in the official number printed at the bottom of the letter.

"Headmaster Shinomori?"

"Miss Ishin." She doubted he recognized her voice; he must have had her number saved in his cellular phone, already. "I see you got the letter. We've been calling you for the past one week."

Sarakshi blinked. She'd been too occupied with Marjani to notice her cellphone. Heck, she'd barely eaten or slept this week. "I apologize, there were personal circumstances that meant I wasn't using my cellphone. How may I help you?"

"Regarding your expulsion, Miss Ishin, I would like to have a meeting with you this week. So we can conclude the paperwork."

She might as well get the unpleasantness over with, Sarakshi thought. It wasn't as if she wanted to _extend_ this business of her expulsion.

"I see. What time would you like to see me, Headmaster?"

-;-

She was sitting on one of the desks in the Student Council block when Tora stepped inside the circular room. He had told himself he would not be harsh, but the moment he caught sight of her - Kaon Umekouji, slender, boyish, stubborn-faced as she refused to do the paperwork she was supposed to - he lost control.

"I need to talk to the girl," he said, voice curt. "Everybody, leave."

Most of the Student Council members who had been lounging around (each of them powerful in their own right) scrambled out of their seats and headed for the door. A sassy blonde threw him a dark look, and Kyo Sohma, the orange-haired secretary, scraped back his chair loudly and said, "Can't afford a room, or can't wait?", but both left the moment Tora raised his gaze to meet theirs.

The moment the door had closed behind them, Kaon sprang to her feet. "What do you think you're doing? You know people will talk about us being alone in here!"

He pushed her flat against a wall.

"Ouch." Kaon's back scraped against brick and paint. "What are you _doing_?!"

"If you ever, e_ver,_ stand in my way ever again, Umekouji, I will ruin whatever power you have in this school, until you _beg_ me to let you have some influence within these walls."

Kaon's eyes widened. She had never seen Tora Igarashi this angry. Hell, she had never seen Tora Igarashi angry at all. "Stop being a sore loser!" She snapped.

"Tell me, Umekouji." He leaned down until his face was inches away from hers. He could feel the power inside him, stretching straight like a string. "How did your meeting with Shigure-san go?"

Shigure-san, the doctor she had discovered was making illegal deals? She inhaled sharply. "How do you know about that?" She snapped. "Have you been keeping tabs on me?!"

"You are _incredibly_ easy to play." Tora gave her a condescending smile. "Did you know that your father was arranging a match between Shigure-san's daughter and Toumu? You've effectively ruined that. When I tell your father the reason Shigure Seiko no longer wants an alliance with your family, your influence within Miyabigaoka is_ not_ the only thing you'll lose."

Incredibly easy to play? He'd been _playing_ her? Kaon blanched. He'd fooled her into thinking Shigure Seiko had been making illegal deals with the Igarashis' help, and she had fallen for it. She'd gone and confronted the man about it, God help her, certain that she was covering all her tracks. How had he managed this? And how was she supposed to know her father had been thinking of engaging Tomu in that family? "You're lying!" She snapped, but her whole frame was quivering with anger and disbelief. "You wouldn't know something like that, anyway! If Tomu was going to be engaged, _I_ would know!"

"Unless your father didn't think you capable of keeping such a secret," Tora said softly.

Kaon was aware her face had gone a sickly shade of white. This was revenge, wasn't it, revenge for him being forced to do something against his own will? Well, she was not going to let him get any satisfaction out of it. "My father trusts me! He trusts me more than he'd ever trust a jerk like you! I can't believe you meddled in my family's private affairs. You - you - If you cared about the redhead so much, you should have found a way to save her from expulsion! I bet she doesn't give a_ damn_ about you now, Igarashi."

Fury uncoiled in Tora's stomach. "Did you really think I slept with Kaoru Maki?" He said softly, placing a hand on the wall next to her, so that she was cornered underneath him.

Kaon's shocked hand flew to her mouth, as Kaoru's utter refusal to be scared by Kaon's accusations began to make sense. "It was all lies!" She breathed.

"Excellent work, Detective."

Kaon's face was as pale her uniform.

"Now do you understand what position you're in, Umekouji?" When she turned her face away from his and refused to meet his gaze, Tora tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, the action soft. "I see that you do. But just in case you're unclear about it at any point, let me lay it down for you in clear terms. You've just ensured Shigure Seiko does not engage the heiress to one of the most famous hotel chains in the world, to your brother. That's a long-term financial mistake. You've also accused a woman of very high social status of sleeping with her son's best friend, and your only claim to justify that is the admission that you _broke_ into my property. That's a very long list of moral mistakes. I can press charges, Umekouji but, worse than that, I can ensure all of this reaches your parents _via_ the people you've accused. I can also ensure that all of it goes back to the way it was, before you started trying to one-up me. Do you understand?"

She did not look at him.

"I said, do you understand?" There was no force whatsoever in Tora's voice, just enough power to cause someone much stronger than Kaon to tremble from head to foot.

"Yes," she hissed.

"Very good." Tora smiled down at her. "Now, I am going to be exceptionally kind to you, Umekouji. I could ask you for a lot of things you couldn't possibly hope to give me, even several decades from now. But I'm not going to. I'll even show you how to fix the mess you've made. But if you ever. Ever. Go after anybody that I love, you little wench, I will make sure your parents know _every single thing_ you don't want them to know, from that kid from Seika High you've kissed, to your accusation of Kaoru Maki."

The kid from Seika - But no one knew about that -

"Have I made myself clear?" Tora demanded.

Kaon swallowed. "Yes," she said shakily. Then, when he did not look pleased by the answer, she nodded firmly, a nod that conveyed that she understood. And she did understand. She could _never_ come out of a battle of manipulation with Tora, as the winning party.

"Excellent." Tora smiled benevolently and stepped back, as if he had never invaded her personal space or threatened her. "You're free to go for the day, Umekouji, though I expect you back here tomorrow at twelve PM sharp, to finish the rest of this paperwork."

She was in no position to make ask him questions. And yet.

"Igarashi!"

He turned around, one eyebrow arched.

"If it was all lies..." If everything she had figured out had been a nest of lies she'd walked into, only because he'd planned it, then what she had discovered about Marjani - his relation as Tora's half-brother - was a lie, too.

"I don't have all day to waste here, Umekouji. What do you want to ask?"

"If it was all lies that you'd set up for me, then.."

"Then I was never under any real distress when you threatened me," Tora finished for her, his voice bored. "Indeed."

"It makes no sense," Kaon burst out. "If it was all lies, why did you have her expelled?"

"Because that was part of the plan, Umekouji." He turned to her and smiled and, for the first time since she'd met him, Kaon Umekouji realized how _very_ truly outmatched she had been from the very beginning. "I didn't just have her expelled, to fool you into confronting everyone else - I had her expelled because I wanted it."

-;-

Sarakshi dragged Marjani to Créme Maid, the day before she was scheduled to meet Headmaster Shinomori. Manilla had offered to close the café for a few hours, so that it could be just them - the staff, Marjani, his friends - but Sarakshi had shook her head no. She wanted Marjani to have a taste of a normal day. Granted, going to maid cafés was not part of his average day, but he _was_ her best friend.

Most of the others were already there. 'Most' consisted of Linda, Fenshani, Yuki, Kurumi, Kouma, Sora, Kuuga (who brought along his pretty, pink-haired girlfriend, Sakura), and a few of Marjani's biker friends ("I could do one of these," Linda commented. None of the bikers seemed the least bit bothered or flustered by the frank comment). Sarakshi had left Tora a text message and when he hadn't replied, a missed call which would have been a real call if he'd picked it. But he hadn't replied, hadn't picked and, of course, hadn't shown up.

"A Manilla-chan special!" She said now, carrying a giant pan of steaming hot soup from the kitchen, into the customers' area. "Pure cream and chopped leek and Hoisin sauce!"

"Eee, you mentioned my name, Sara-chan~" Manilla ran to hug her from behind - the hug was so sudden and rib-cracking, if it had been anyone without Sarakshi's excellent sense of balance and coordination carrying the pan, the soup would have splashed all over the place.

"Ouch, Manilla-chan, you're killing me!" Sarakshi gasped.

"Give me that!" Fenshani (least bothered that Sarakshi was dying of a hug) exclaimed, snatching the huge pan right out of Sarakshi's hands. "It smells delicious. I don't have to share this, do I?"

"You can't finish all that by yourself!" Sora said breathlessly, round-eyed.

"Don't challenge him," Linda said drily. "He can finish that, _and_ everything else, if we let him."

"But, but, that's Manilla-chan's special for Marjani-san!" Satsuki exclaimed.

Fenshani pouted. "Fine, fine. Hey, Suoh, I'll let you have some if you can beat me in a fight. Oh wait, you're using a crutch to walk these days, so the soup's all mine!" He flashed Marjani a wicked grin.

"Takihara." Marjani's voice was dark. "I could still beat you in a fight, without so much as rising out of my seat."

Fenshani set down the pan and crossed his arms against his chest. "No, you couldn't!"

"Yes, he could," Linda grinned. "Sorry, Takihara, you lose this one."

"You keep quiet, Juliet." Fenshani pointed a wooden spoon at her. "You couldn't beat_ either_ of us! You're wearing heels!"

"I beat a man fair and square in high heels," Sarakshi pointed out, referring to Kosuke Kato, the ginger she'd kicked to the other side of the roof a few weeks ago. "Would have beaten the other too, but he kept cheating."

"You act like a man, though," Kurumi pointed out drily. "That helps you in your fights. Linda would never stoop to that level of unattractiveness."

"Did you just call Sara-chan unattractive?" Sakura asked, round-eyed.

"She kind of is, when she's all sweaty," Linda said thoughtfully. "You've never seen her after a match, have you?"

"I don't mind a sweaty girl." One of the bikers grinned, eyeing Sarakshi - who, in her black-and-white maid costume and high ponytail, looked anything but sweaty at that moment.

Marjani cleared his throat, very loudly.

"Who wants to try some of that soup?" Kurumi said, grabbing the pan right out of Fenshani's hand, before things could get awkward. A chorus of voices answered her. "Smells delicious!"

-;-

Kouma and Kuuga had been the first to leave. The latter had apologized profusely (even though he had told all of them beforehand, that he had an UxMishi rehearsal lined up). Kurumi and Sakura had gone with them. The others had left at different intervals after that, though the bikers had been the last group to leave. One of them told Marjani he hoped to see him back on the track soon. Then he'd leaned down, whispered something in Linda's ear, and walked out after his friends.

"What did he say?" Fenshani asked, prodding Linda with a spoon.

"He gave me the address to his hotel room," Linda teased.

"Tell me!" Fenshani pulled at her long pigtails. "Who were you trying to dress up as anyway, Juliet, a kindergarten kid?"

"Guess you're suited to be a lawyer after all, Romeo. Can't stop asking pointless questions, can you?" Linda shot back.

The two of them bickered all the way out the door.

"They're like a married couple," Sarakshi grinned, as she left Marjani in the kitchen. Satsuki was washing cups; Fumiko drying her hands to leave. Everybody else had left. And even though she had enjoyed the hustle-bustle of the day, the laughter, the chatter, the commentary over the food, Sarakshi was thankful for the peace and quiet that followed as well. Humming under her breath, she picked up the cat that had slipped into the kitchen when Satsuki had gone out to bin the trash. Having gently lowered the feline to the ground outside the café's back (where it promptly curled itself around her feet), Sarakshi stared up at the twilit sky, a clear dark blue with streaks of purple.

A large hand came to a rest on her shoulder.

"Hey," she said, voice soft. She felt Marjani's wooden crutch press against her as he came to stand behind her, the touch a sharp reminder of everything that had happened in the past few weeks. When she leaned against him, her back came to a gentle rest against his. "Do you really have to use that for an entire month?" She poked at the single wooden crutch.

"If I'm lucky." His voice was calm, but that didn't stop a knot from forming in her throat. One month, if he was lucky. More if he wasn't..

"Well, make sure you don't poke the cat with that," she smiled wryly.

"Even without the use of a leg, Sarakshi, I have no doubt I'm a lot more coordinated than you are."

"That's not true." She shoved her elbow into his chest, without any real pressure - for all of his pretense that he was fine, he was still bruised and broken all over. Of course, it had been impossible to confine him to a bed for too long. The moment he was capable of moving enough to sit up, Marjani had been out. In the end, his personal doctor had decided it was better to let him go out and about under supervison and alongside treatment that factored in the movement, rather than attempt to hold him back and result in further damage. "_And_ I bet I could take you in a fight now."

He whirled her around and backed her flat against the metal door, his good leg pressing against her, his hand placed on the wall, next to her face. "You think so?" He asked, exerting just the slightest amount of pressure to hold her in place, leaving her breathless against his body.

She didn't. With one good leg, and one good arm, Marjani Suoh could still take her and win. Heck, he could take some of those bikers and win. "Alright, alright, I get the point." She pressed her palms against his chest. "Hush, now back off. I bet you scared off the kitty."

But he hadn't. When he stepped back, the kitten came right back and rubbed its head against Sarakshi's legs. Then it dugs its claws into Marjani's jeans and began to climb up his good leg. For several moments, they were both silent, watching the kitten (already tiny and, as it climbed up Marjani's leg, looking even tinier) in its ascent.

"It likes you," Sarakshi deadpanned.

"Stop laughing at me," Marjani said, his voice mock dangerous. "If I weren't so merciful, I would have shown this cat my true mettle by now."

"Of course you would have. In fact, I'm sure it's only another Evil Creature of the Dark, attracted to the manly danger you exude."

"I told you to stop laughing at me." He shot her a narrow-eyed look - she was actually laughing now, the wind blowing strands of scarlet hair about as she doubled over - but the cat chose that moment to digs its claw into him. "You're going to hurt yourself, you fool," Marjani said, looking down at the kitten (it stared back at him with large silver-green eyes, not quite sure why the human did not seem bothered by the claws in its skin. This particular cat had always been able to get a reaction out of human beings, by digging its claws into them. When further clawing seemed to make no difference whatsoever, the disappointed feline got bored, sprang to the ground, stretched its body to its full size, and walked off haughtily.)

"I see you let it go unharmed." Sarakshi pressed her face into his shoulder, to stifle her laughter. "What a show of compassion, Marjani."

"Idiot." He placed the one arm not hindered by the clutch around her; when she leaned into him, he had to resist the urge to lower his lips to her shampoo-scented hair. "Do you want to go catch the UxMishi concert tonight?"

"Mmm." She drew back to meet his gaze. If there was one thing she had realized when Marjani Suoh had almost died, it was that she could do anything - anything at all - to keep him alive. But that she would never risk what the two of them had, by changing its boundaries. She liked those boundaries; they kept her universe anchored. In so many ways, he kept her sane in the new world she'd stumbled into. "Do you have your bike?"

He nodded, wondering if she hadn't brought hers. "I'll drive you, if you didn't bring yours."

"No, silly." If he wasn't going to stay off his bike (and he wasn't, she had realized, even if he knew it could damage his knee, his leg, _and_ his foot) then she'd just have to make sure she went everywhere with him. Besides, she'd always been passionate about bikes. And Marjani's bikes - gorgeously built, amazingly modified - were about as delicious as bikes got. "_I'll_ drive you."

-;-

The garage was a rectangle of steel frames, fresh paint and wrecked cars. _Very_ wrecked cars. Sarakshi let her eyes flicker from the covered bowl in her hand, to the front of the (surprisingly un-damaged) silver luxury car standing in front of her.

"Is that a V8 Vantage?" She asked, jaw dropping open.

Tora Igarashi slid out from underneath the gleaming red hulk of a car to her right. Pushing himself into a seating position using both hands, he leaned his back against the hood of the vehicle he had been working on. He was shirtless; in the heat of the garage, sweat and machine oil glistened across his arms and chest, all the way down to his abs. He gave her a pointed smile, and she quickly averted her gaze from his glistening six-pack.

"Close your mouth, you look particularly unattractive when you do that," he drawled, dropping a ratchet to the floor; it met the ground with a resounding _clang_. "How long did it take you to track me here?"

"I asked Marjani where he thought you might be, so half a minute. You own a _V8 Vantage_?"

"Marjani's been keeping tabs on me, how adorable. And that's a V8 Vantage _S_, commoner."

"He hasn't been keeping tabs on you, he took a guess for me. It's not my fault you two can read each other's minds like magicians. _You own a_ _fifteen million yen Aston Martin_?"

"Yes, and that's a 200-million yen Koenigsegg you just placed your bowl of food on, commoner." He flashed her a very sharp, very condescending smile and, eyes widening, she grabbed the bowl off the hood of the black car at what seemed like the speed of light. "Now, if you're done staring at my abs, what do you want?"

Sarakshi's cheeks flushed a deep red. "I was not staring at your abs!"

"A common denial, but I'll let it go for now, considering you've left the real question unanswered."

She _hadn't_ been staring at his abs, Sarakshi thought stubbornly. She'd been staring at his arm, because his sling was gone. He'd discarded it within weeks - wasn't he aware of the damage that could do to his arm? And to use that arm while working on a car! Removing her gaze from his sling-less arm, she frowned at the cars in front of her. Gleaming, polished, painstakingly-designed, each of them was a masterpiece in its own right. Even the wrecked cars - the ones she could tell Tora had driven repeatedly into a very hard surface or, in some cases, various kinds of hard surfaces - were embodiments of racing perfection. "These cars have to be worth millions of dollars," she breathed. "How can you just leave this place unlocked and unguarded like that, for anyone at all to walk into?! Somebody is going to attempt to steal one of these, sooner or later!"

"Oh, I wouldn't be very worried about that. I don't think anyone would have the guts to attempt a burglary on _this_ place."

"I know your head is full of notions about how terrifying your aura is -"

"The belief has nothing to do with my assessment of myself, commoner. I don't own this place." He flashed her a sharp smile. "Marjani does."

Her mouth fell open, all over again. "_Marjani_ owns all of these?"

"Not all of us put our money to use by buying lesser human beings, and getting irritating peasants expelled." He rose to his feet and kicked the toolbox he had been using, out of his path. "Now, what do you want?"

"_Marjani_ owns all of these?"

"Come to think of it, it _is_ somewhat corny." Tora pulled on a thoughtful face, as he surveyed the three wrecked cars in front of him. "He knew I'd be so mad, nothing short of destroying some truly spectacular vehicles could make me feel any better, so he left an entire garage unlocked for me to help myself to. Maybe I should see him at least once, after this. Then again, I see his Lamborghini isn't here. I suppose even he wasn't okay with me taking that apart. Nah, I don't think I'll allow him the pleasure of talking to me, after all."

"He left you a garage worth millions to destroy, in the hopes that it'd make you feel better?" Sarakshi stared at the breathtaking two-hundred-million yen Koenigsegg Trevita standing in front of her, aware that it could fire up to speeds of 245 miles per hour. "How am I ever supposed to measure up to that? I brought you a bowl of soup!" Sure, it was one of the finest soups he'd ever taste, but even so!

Tora smiled. "I'm glad you came to that conclusion on your own, commoner. You can't measure up to anyone who actually knows me. Especially considering nobody who knows me _or_ Marjani would think Marjani owns the Trevita - it's obviously mine. Now, I want you out of this garage in ten seconds, or I'll call security and tell them to throw you out."

"I got you soup, and you're going to have me thrown out?"

She had not budged a centimetre. Then again, Tora had to admit to himself he had never expected her to. He grabbed the covered bowl and dropped it down lightly, right on top of the toolbox at his feet. "There. I've taken your soup. Now get out of here."

She slammed him against the hood of the Koenigsegg. "Why the hell are you avoiding me?"

"If you don't step out of my personal space this instant, commoner, I am going to slam you flat against the hood of this car, and kiss my way from that mole on the side of your throat, to the edge of your mouth, until you beg me _not_ to stop. Are we clear on that?"

Her legs - locking him into his standing position in front of the car - went limp at the words. She stepped back hastily, but he hit the back of a foot against her knee, disbalancing her, and slammed her down on to the front of the car, her back flat against the hood. Then, one hand placed on either side of her body, he leaned over her, until his mouth was inches away from hers. "You think you're cute, Ishin, finding out where I am, walking in on me, bringing me soup? You think you can ask me how I am, and tell me everything will be alright, and pretend you never heard that conversation between my father and me? You can't. I'm not fine. _You_ are not fine. And you did hear everything that went on, that day."

He smelled of machine oil and sweat and lingering perfume, and his lips were centimetres away from hers. She hadn't talked to him - even seen him properly - in weeks. Now, to be flung so close to him, her frame pressed against his, his chest inches away from hers, left her thoughts in wild chaos. Her heart was thudding so loudly, she was certain he would be able to hear it. "So you're going to walk away from me?" She said, meeting his gaze, refusing to flinch, wildly aware of her heart pounding against her ribs. "Because I saw what it's like? Because I understand?"

He laughed, a mirthless laugh. "I didn't walk away from you. You walked away from me. And you should have, you naive little fool. I have _never_ done anything except make your life miserable. I dug out your past, and threatened your family, and played with your friends, and shamed you in front of dozens of people. I had you _expelled_ fr_o_m Miyabigaoka."

"That's not who you are!" She hated him, and she loved him, and she wasn't sure which was worse, the anger that accompanied the hatred, or the anger that accompanied the love.

"That is exactly who I am," he breathed. "You can keep trying to prove otherwise, Ishin, but that doesn't change the fact that it isn't me that you want - it's the potential of good you see in me that attracts you. Not me. Not me as I am."

"That's not true," she whispered.

It was the first time she had admitted she was attracted to him - Him? The potential that she saw in him? - but he could not have cared less. "Tell me, Ishin -" He raised his gaze from her lips to her eyes. Deep blue eyes stared back at him, and he almost sneered at the innocence, the chaos, the mind-numbing_ trust_ in them. "Would you have come back to me after I had had you expelled, if you hadn't seen that exchange between me and Genkei? If you hadn't felt any sympathy for me?"

She stared at him, astounded at how little he understood her, when it came to his own self.

"I thought so," he said, smiling sharply at her silence.

Then he did the one thing she had never, not in a million years, expected of him.

He pulled away, picked the intercom on the wall, and said,

"Tasade-san, there's a young girl who's followed me here. I need her out of my sight within the next thirty seconds, or you're fired. And if I see her anywhere near this place again? Your entire security team is fired."

-;-

"I'm sorry I pulled your father into this."

Yuki paused in the middle of pouring wine into a wineglass. "How hard did you hit your head?" She asked, one perfect eyebrow arched.

Tora raised himself into a sitting position on the couch. He'd been through several weeks of hell and, now that they were over, he was in no mood for pretense. "The rules needed to be changed. I didn't want to drag him into trouble with the PR machinery. But something had to be done."

"I know." A filled wineglass in each hand, Yuki stepped over a cracked bottle lying on the floor with feline grace, and sat down on the table in front of him. Womanizer, honour student, one of Japan's best young tennis stars, and unofficially voted Most Likely to Seduce a Girl by Smiling at Her at Miyabigaoka Academy, Tora Igarashi was a lot of things in general. But right now in particular?

He was right.

He had had to drag her father into it - it couldn't have been helped.

"When was the last time you got drunk?" Yuki asked, a little curiously, as Tora took the wineglass from her. Oh, she'd seen Tora drink a lot of times. But to actually lose his sobriety? No. He was too careful of when and how much he drank.

"I think it was when father had his goons trash Marjani's bike. Ah, no. That was the time I went to three different cities in the same day, to get a replacement before Marjani could return home and see the mess. The modifications he does to his bikes do have a rather annoying level of detail to duplicate." An impossible level of detail for someone without indepth knowledge of bikes. But he wasn't going to admit he'd failed spectacularly, that one time.

"Well, it's apparent_ you_ aren't alright," Yuki said lazily. In her silver top and black tights, she looked like a vision. The difference was that she felt like one, too. Tora? He'd looked as perfectly dressed as she was right now, every single day he had gone to see Marjani. Then he had come back home and been a wreck, in a way only Tora Igarashi could be.

Then again, given that Marjani had almost died, his uncharacteristic lack of control over his emotions made sense. It didn't help that for some reason he had chosen not to share with her, he had decided to pretend Sarakshi didn't exist. Yuki had dropped the redhead's name in the conversation once or twice, but he had moved right on, as if he had never heard her.

She knew better than to inquire about it.

"And you?" Tora threw her statement back at her. "I'm beginning to think nothing moves you. Or was that time you and Marjani dated so bad, the idea of him dying didn't bother you at all?"

Yuki smiled wryly. That had been long ago. Even if her father had not stepped into her room one night and told her she had better chose between her decision to see Marjani, and the idea that she might - might - be able to run part of his business at some point in the future, she supposed it still wouldn't have worked out between her and Marjani. She had to be a Yamato Nadeshiko, after all. And what kind of a Yamato Nadeshiko saw someone like Marjani Suoh, all hard muscle and raw male strength? No, she, she was sure to be married off in a wonderful alliance between the Shinomoris and some other powerful family, to somebody slightly shorter and vastly safer and reasonably more business-oriented than Marjani Suoh. "He was an excellent kisser," she grinned. "I certainly wouldn't want him dead because we dated."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Haven't I been keeping you?"

"As a matter of fact, you have." She rose to her feet. "I have to meet father in half an hour, but I might drop in again on the way back home."

He brushed his lips across the back of her hand. "You know I'll wait for you."

"I know." She picked up the glasses and carried them back to the bar. It was when she was locking the cabinets - he'd never been the kind to drink away whatever was bothering him; but she was still going to lock away the bottles - that she saw it. A delicate white-gold chain with an intricate clasp, with the words _meus ignus_ woven across it in red diamond letters, lying between half-drunk bottles as if it cost a dime a dozen, not a few millions. As if he'd attempted to throw it away, then flung it here because he hadn't been able to bin it.

"Tora?" She said softly.

"Yuki," his lazy voice answered, her name sounding part-teasing, part-suggestive on his tongue, the way it always did.

"Did you give up on her?" She asked.

For a long while, he did not answer. She picked up the delicate necklace (It was one of the most stunning and well-crafted pieces of jewellery she had ever seen, Yuki thought to herself) and wrapped it in tissue paper, dropping it gently on the mantle-piece on her way out. She was at the door, her overcoat falling over her clothes like a soft hug, when he answered.

"Yes," he said quietly.

-;-

Headmaster Shinomori's office was a tribute to the man's organizational skills: everything was neat and orderly, not a single thing out of place. Sarakshi had seen it several times before. But this was the first time that she _really_ saw it: shields mounted along all the walls, a glowing trophy cabinet, and (Sarakshi's heart skipped a beat. How had she never noticed before?) a framed picture of Yuki on the Headmaster's desk.

Even though he was nothing like his daughter in appearance or voice, she could never quite see him as just the Headmaster anymore. Before anything and everything else, he was Yuki Shinomori's father. But that was not the reason she felt a total lack of apprehension.

Marjani was alright, and nothing else mattered for now.

She took a seat at Shinji Shinomori's gesture towards the chairs in front of his desk, but Shinji himself did not sit down. For a few minutes, he just paced up and down his office. Then, abruptly, he turned to her.

"Miss Ishin. You were a honour student at Miyabigaoka Academy. You were consistently in the top three in your year." In fact, if it hadn't been her constant struggle with Physics, she would have been the top-ranked student in her year. "You were also active in extra-curricular activities. Quite the model student, in fact."

Sarakshi arched an eyebrow. She knew all of this. What was Shinji's point?

"I've been thinking, and perhaps.." He struggled with the words, as if he were struggling with a particularly nasty piece of slime. "I feel that perhaps." He walked over to his desk and grabbed the top of his own chair with both hands. "Maybe we were a little _hasty_ with our decision."

She stared at him, not quite sure she understood. "What?"

Shinji Shinimori looked like she'd slapped him. Then, deciding it seemed like the best course of action to just get the unpleasantness over with, he plowed on. "Miss Ishin, we'd like to offer you your seat as an honour student back at Migabiyaoka."

"What?" Sarakshi repeated.

"You've earned your full scholarship at the Academy -" Shinji Shinimori went on, as if she had never spoken.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

The Headmaster of Miyabigaoka Academy stopped mid-word, and stared at the little blip of a redhead seated in front of him. "Excuse me?" He said, after a moment's pause that seemed to stretch forever.

"You can't be serious." Sarakshi could feel blood rushing to her head in a streak of anger. "You had me humiliated in frot of an entire panel of directors and journalists. You let the Student Council President shame me in front of over a dozen people. Now you want me to believe you've had a change of heart? Sir," she added, realizing she might have come across as _too_ rude.

For a moment, she thought he would scream at her. Shinji Shinomori's eye certainly seemed to be twitching out of control in anger. Then he took a deep breath, and said, "We've reviewed your case, Miss Ishin, and we realize you had a spotless record before this unfortunate turn of events. While our focus on discipline and grace remains, we also do not want to give Miyabigaoka Academy the reputation of being an unforgiving school."

"Headmaster Shinimori. Please. Just tell me the truth."

He paused mid-word once more, cut off by the girl's soft voice. He should have known he wasn't up to this, Shinji thought. He'd never been a man to accept mistakes easily, after all. The truth, then, he thought. "The press you received was not the kind of press the Academy was expecting," he said grudgingly. "In the past, cases such as this have always been highlighted as maintenance of the highest degree of discipline. We have a very efficient Public Relations department." Pride glinted in his eyes. "But this time, some newspaper gave your case a different angle. Most of the big newspapers seemed to have picked up on it. We're getting calls from all sorts of agencies and NGOs and parents, about how our policies are discriminatory. The school has had to agree to a written anti-discrimination policy against the lower.. against students such as yourself, who may work. It'd strengthen our case if you would considering coming back. Some other schools are always looking for ways to damage Miyabigaoka's reputation, and your expulsion seems to have become their weapon of choice."

Her eyes widened. She had never imagined such a turn of events. "But if the story is getting so much media attention, why has no one contacted me?" She asked.

"Your identity seems to have been concealed.." Shinji Shinomori frowned. That had puzzled him, too. How well the girl's identity had been hidden from the media. It was almost as if someone had _ensured_ it didn't get out. But no. A scheme like that would take too much time and effort and money. And plotting. Who would plot that well and that deeply, to save a sixteen year old girl? "I assume the initial newspaper did not want you to get into trouble. The rest of them can only turn to Miyabigaoka itself for information, which we have always prided ourselves on not dishing out without good reason."

"I wasn't involved in any of this, if that's what you want to know," Sarakshi frowned.

"No, no, no." Shinji stopped pacing, and came to a stop in front of her. "Let me come straight to the point. We would like to pretend none of this ever happened, Miss Ishin, that you were never expelled. It would be advantageous for both of us. And I promise you, no one will make any trouble for you on this account again."

Never expelled? Sarakshi had never seen that coming. Her mind raced with a hotchpotch of thoughts and emotions. Why would anyone cover up for her? Wasn't it too giant a stroke of luck that one of the journalists in the room had thought of her case differently? _Come on, they can't all have been bad people,_ she told herself. Yet it seemed too good to be true.

"Miss Ishin?" Shinji prompted.

Sarakshi was aware that all she had to do was nod, and everything would be alright again. Marjani was awake, and on his way to recovering. She could go back to Miyabigaoka next term as if she had never been expelled. Everything would be the same as it had been, when she had first stepped into the Academy as an honour student.

Then she thought of Tora's remorseless smile as he had shown that scandalous picture during her hearing, of the way his gaze glazed over her when he saw her now, of the way both gestures - the smile that said she didn't matter; the gaze that passed over her as if she didn't exist - hurt her like her heart would burst _every single time_ she thought of them.

And realized things would never be the same as they had been, when she had first arrived.

Too much had happened over the course of the last one year: Miyabigaoka Academy would always be a reminder.

"I can't," she said softly.

Shinji's face blanched. "I know things have not gone exceptionally well for you in the past, but if you were to agree to pretend none of this has happened, I can give you my word that no one will make any trouble for you. Please don't be frightened."

The distance Tora had wanted from her earlier, was nothing compared to the distance he maintained now. It had taken all of her willpower to handle it, but she had been able to handle the manipulation - she wondered if she would ever be able to handle this. His refusal to acknowledge her existence. His hatred for her company. The way he had picked up that intercom, and had security rush in to show her out.

"I was never frightened of trouble," she said quietly, and Shinji realized that she wasn't lying. He wished he knew what she was thinking. But it was Yuki who was good at understanding people's emotions, even commoners', not him. He had never possessed that troublesome gift. "Headmaster Shinomori.. Do you want me to return to Miyabigaoka, or do you want to ensure the Academy stays out of trouble?"

The girl was smart, Shinji had to give her credit for that. He hadn't expected her to be this direct, either. "I don't want the Academy to be involved in any kind of controversy," he said, deciding beating about the bush was not going to work with this one: she was too intelligent for games. "Some of Japan's most noble families send their children over to Miyabigaoka, because of its pristine reputation. Your case at present threatens that. I understand it would be hard for you to get admission in a good school, with an expulsion on your record. Your return would help settle matters for both sides."

"What if I have an alternative?"

Shinji's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting, Miss Ishin?"

"If you'll remove the expulsion from my record, I give you my word to back up your claim that Miyabigaoka is striving to be a fair and unbiased school. You can claim I was never expelled and if I _am_ ever found out as an individual, I'll maintain that I wasn't. That Miyabigaoka has always been very fair in its treatment of me. I can put that in writing for you, if you take the expulsion off my record." Sarakshi had never thought she would see the day when she chose to lie about something this serious. But sometimes, the truth means nothing but unwarranted, intolerable, unneeded pain. Sometimes, distortions are self-preservation and lies, safety nets.

Sometimes, it's important to move on.

"But I would rather not return to Miyabigaoka. I want to transfer to Hibiya High."

x

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><p><em>Thank you, <strong>slypkc, Stephanie, ChuGaEun, blob80, Kimi Ayuzawa, Xylenia, yuki274, <em><strong>CathyNeko<strong>_, Ka-tay's mind, RuhGezgini, Smitha, Enna, Myrrine, AnimeFreak145, lettertothewind, Bebe17, SkulPercyJace Potterlock, Godtegrisen, plgine, Lemonsnaps, Yui's Sweet Dream, meme7789, Tora fan, iloveumarjani, lunarestings, Zubin, withinadream, Megane no Ohime-sama, ANImeK-POPFan4EVerever, Cain count,**** Guest101 **(Please don't cry! :O I hope you're happy again! :D) __**Ayla **(I'm so glad you found it worth your time ^.^)**,** **Natsuki** (Tall-dark-and-dangerous? Haha, what a nickname for Marjani. XD), **Nal** (I loved the excitement in your review. O_O It made me feel super excited about writing the rest of the chapter XD), **ImDutch** (PM me? Or email me. ^_^), **Anonnnn** (Your Igarashi-type-threat made me laugh XD. *stops reading your review and quickly starts writing*), **Wow** (Haha, I liked writing the part. I liked the idea of Tora using his hands as a scale, to give the measurements for her dress. XD) and **everybody else** who left a review/ followed/ favourite'd._

_**Stephanie:** Ee, now I'm nervous. I'll wait for the whole review. O_O And I don't watch Naruto (gave up on the anime after a few episodes. I couldn't get myself to like it, seemed too stretched out to me) but I did follow the manga for a really long time. Hoping to pick it up again, in a few days. So recommend away!_

_**Cain count: **I would love to expand and continue Seduction, but if I do, there would probably be yeeaaars of waiting between new chapters. I have vacations right now (the last week of vacations, actually) but real life will probably eat me up again soon. D: And yes, I think Tora would do pretty much anything Marjani asks of him under these circumstances. Though I think he would also do pretty much anything Marjani asks of him, under any other circumstances. 0_o_

_**iloveumarjani:** I think to leave the love triangle without a resolution would be sort of cheating (because I know a LOT of people have been reading to see how it ends.) Even though I kinda actually not want to write a resolution. 0_o But I feel like I owe it to so many people, who've been waiting since forever to find out.  
><em>

_**Aeviel:** The character's Sora! She had a brief appearance in Chapter 24, and was mentioned in 25. Nothing major, though. ^_^  
><em>

_**Zubin:** Thank you for the suggestions! Starting on the manga. :D And no, no, why do you think it's weird? :O It's perfectly fine!  
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_**The future blogger!: **You'll have to wait another chapter before I can answer that. :D_

Soo. _This update finishes the second-last chapter of _Seduction._ The chapter title is from the line 'Hold still right before we crash, 'cause we both know how this ends' from the song Clarity, by Zedd. As usual, apologies for any factual inaccuracies, and please feel free to point them out. =)_ **Up next we have the final chapter, featuring:**

_- A car_

_- An appearance by Misaki. And,_

_- The need for a willing suspension of disbelief (How would we have any badassery, if every character who jumped from a roof was out of action for the next couple of months? :'3)_

_The final chapter will probably take a while, because 1) I haven't started writing it yet, 2) I know I will keep editing it ruthlessly, because it's the last chapter, and I'll never be satisfied with it, 3) I'll keep waiting for reviews, to see what everybody is thinking about how the final chapter will go. Because there is still so much I haven't yet decided in my head O_O and 4) It's the last chapter, and I don't know if I feel like just.. putting it out yet. I understand the need for closure, but even so, I absolutely hate endings. I've even started thinking of an epilogue. Andjust. Ihatenedingsokay? Okay._

_Thank you for all the love and support, and for staying with me on this journey so far. You are the best readers ever, and your reviews make me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Take care of yourselves. Until the next chapter. :3_


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